House of Pomegranates
by electric violinist
Summary: AU - Ste is looking for work in Liverpool at the end of the 19th century. There he meets a handsome but angry Irish club owner called Brendan. Give it a go; it's dramatic and sexy, and far less pretentious than it sounds.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So I had a random and slightly experimental idea for an AU. The year is 1895, and Ste, a former farm hand, has brought Amy and the kids, for reasons that will become clearer if I decide to actually finish this one (which I do currently intend to do), to Liverpool, where he is currently looking for work. **

**The barriers between Ste and Brendan are more than the psychological ones of canon. Though they are still part of it, there are also the barriers of society, class boundary and the law. The year is significant, as it is the year the Irish play-write Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for sleeping with the man he loved. (OK, for a large number of sexual acts with prostitutes and men young enough to be his son, but most of that he did with the man he loved, so we're not going to judge him.)**

…xxx…xxx…xxx…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Ste looked at the miserable, cold, grey building. It didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary. It was just another anonymous town house, four stories high, made from neat stonework that had probably once been clear bright white, before the black smoke that tumbled heavily out of the monstrous factories that invaded Liverpool had overtaken the speed of the house painter. If Ste hadn't had the piece of paper to check the address, he probably wouldn't have thought to step inside the gate, let along knock, politely but nervously, on the black front door.

A man with short brown hair and the body of a steam engine opened the door, looked at Ste as though he were a turd on the pavement, calmly but firmly said "Fuck off!" and slammed the door in Ste's face.

Ste flinched. That was another rejection, then. He checked down at his clothes. Maybe there was something about the way he dressed that made people taken an instant dislike to him. Or maybe it was just his face. He knew he was skinny, and maybe men like the great bolder he'd just met assumed that meant he was a weakling. Maybe he was. The other boys on the farm had always seemed to find everything easier than him. But that didn't mean he wasn't a good worker. He always carried his weight.

He just needed someone to give him a chance.

He turned to leave. Obviously he wouldn't get that chance here. The money he'd nicked from Terry would get them through a couple more days, and maybe Amy would have had more luck. But Ste doubted it, with a toddler on each arm.

A muffled sound behind him stopped him. He glanced back over his shoulder as he heard the door open.

"Oi! Stop where you are and get your skinny arse in 'ere now!"

He'd recognise that voice anywhere. He'd heard it piercing through the walls as the owner's unfortunate husband bore its brunt. Jacqui McQueen, the woman you didn't start a fight with if you ever wanted a peaceful day again.

"What d'you think he's gonna do, Jacs, the washing up?" moaned the boulder sarcastically, clearly already annoyed by the overbearing young woman who'd forced the door open.

"That's not for you to decide, though, is it Warren?" she argued, not giving an inch, "come on love, get in here."

"You watch who you're talking to, love," growled the bolder, Warren, in a voice that would have had Ste running for the hills if it had been directed at him. It didn't bother Jacqui

"If you want me to put in a word with our Theresa for you, we'll have less of that, thank you. What you waiting for?"

The last words were directed at Ste, who stood watching from the path, probably looking like a rabbit that knew it was about to be shot, and thought it was obvious he was waiting to be sure Warren the bolder wasn't going to kill him. "Er," he said, looking nervously at the huge man, knowing that this guy would happily squash Ste with his thumb with very little encouragement.

"Well, get in if you're coming," grumbled Warren, and thought had for a moment before adding "ratboy."

Ste could live with that. He'd had worse nick names from his step-dad. He darted through the open door, feeling Warren's derisive gaze on him the whole way, and only narrowly avoiding the door that was slammed shut tightly on his heels.

He'd stepped into a small hallway with a wide staircase against one wall, and double doors to the right. They were nothing special, but the room was clean and pleasant, lit by gas lamps on the walls. He could just about see, at the top of the stairs, a part of a chandelier and the beginnings of a much grander room. Jacqui turned to him.

"Right, I'm gonna go find Cheryl, why don't you wait in there?" She pointed at the double doors. As Ste stepped towards them, she spun back to him. "Oh, if Brendan turns up, just… stay out of his way, yeah?"

"Brendan?" asked Ste.

"Cheryl's brother, owns half this place. You can't miss him. He's tall, dark, handsome, with a tashe to rival Kitchener's and the presence of … well, you won't miss him."

"Right…" said Ste hesitantly. The woman who had failed to even mention Warren the yeti felt the need to warn him about this Brendan. Either she had her priorities completely messed up, or this guy Brendan was a total nutter. Ste resolved to find a corner to stand in and be totally silent.

He opened the double doors.

Inside was a bit of a disappointment really. The way Jacqui had described 'Chez Chez,' as the most exciting night spot in Liverpool, just didn't seem to tally with the dingy bar and handful of morose looking men sat about in a room that was clearly designed for many more people than currently occupied it if its size and the number of chairs and tables around the place were anything to go by. There was also a small raised area against one wall, presumably where a band might play, and a battered looking upright piano in a corner.

Ste decided not to be snobby. A job was a job, and Ste Hay, son of a drunkard and brought up by a farm labourer with a temper, didn't have the right to be snobby. He could worry about losing a job if a place went out of business, but right now he had four mouths that needed feeding, and he would make do with pretty much anything. He stepped quietly to a table beside the door, so Jacqui would find him easily when she came back with Cheryl. He almost changed his mind about the whole thing when he heard a raised voice coming from a door behind the bar.

"Get the fuck out of here, ye little queer!"

Ste almost leapt out of his seat. He'd been called that before on the farm when he'd dropped something or couldn't make the horses do what he wanted, and a couple of times by his step-father without any real provocation. He breathed deeply. The shout hadn't been directed at him. It was probably directed at the mousy lad currently darting out of the door, almost falling into the bar in a rush to get out of there. He managed to get most of the way across the room, before falling over a chair and landing spectacularly on the floor by Ste's feet.

Ste offered him a hand which he gratefully accepted.

"Are you alright?" Ste asked. The guy, who was about the same age as him, was currently trying to keep his freckled face down.

"Yeah, thanks," the lad replied, in an accent Ste thought he hadn't heard before, "just… you know."

Ste wasn't sure he did.

"Well, I best be… you know…" the lad added, and nodded towards the door.

"Are you sure? You're not hurt?" Ste asked, worried.

"No, I…"

The shouty voice boomed across the room again, making a number of the morose looking men flinch, "Macca, I told you to get lost." A man followed the voice out from behind the bar and added, more calmly, "You know how I hate to repeat myself."

The young man, Macca, paled a bit, but also looked a bit lost. Ste wondered at the mix. If that voice had been directed at him, he would have happily run a million miles in the opposite direction.

"Gotta go," muttered Macca, and dodged past Ste, darting out the door. Ste couldn't not steal a glance at the man who could evoke such a reaction.

He saw the thunderous blue eyes, the tall muscular physique, the striking facial hair, and couldn't take his eyes off of the creature before him. Handsome was an understatement for that man. He could have been a prince from the fairytales Leah liked, except for the expression like a storm cloud that would have fitted better to the dastardly villain. He realised too late that this was obviously the man Jacqui had warned him about. He'd already stared too long, and the man had already spotted him.

"What are you looking at?" the man snapped. What had Jacqui said his name was? Ste searched his memories. Brandon? No…

"Brendan," he said aloud as he remembered, then regretted it. Brendan's face darkened to hear his own name from a stranger, and marched around the bar. Not a single chair or table found itself in his way, even though he never took his eyes from Ste. When he reached Ste, he invaded his space, stood over him, and stared down at him. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.

"I'm no one," replied Ste, automatically and meekly. It was his standard answer to big threatening men, but he knew that wouldn't do. "I mean, my name's Ste… er… Steven Hay, and I er… I need... I'm looking for a job."

Brendan snorted. "No chance," he growled and turned away just before an overgrown butterfly flew into the room.

"You must be Ste," the butterfly greeted, and Ste managed to see just enough through all the colours, frills, lace and heaving bosoms, to realise that this was a young woman with blond hair, "Jacqui told me all about you. Oh, and I see you've met Brendan!" Her accent was the same as Macca's, though Brendan's was slightly different, which was strange as Ste was sure Jacqui had said he was her brother.

"Well, I'm Cheryl," she confirmed, "and this is my little club, a little place for everyone to let their hair down and have a little fun."

Jacqui, who'd followed Cheryl in, took one glance between Ste and Brendan, and muttered, "Sorry kid," before wondering off to the bar.

"Chez, you're taking on more staff?" asked Brendan, his voice suddenly so different to the shouts and growls Ste had heard up until then. Now it was gentle, though a little exasperated.

"Well, he's a friend of Jacqui's, Bren, and he's got two little kiddies at home."

Brendan's previously hard glance wavered a little, but not enough, "We've got too many already, Chez. And what would he do anyway? We've already got Warren on the door, we've got enough bar staff, you want him to do housekeeping?"

"Oh, Brendan, we can't just turn him away."

"You're too soft Chez, of course we can," Brendan dismissed, turning his back on Ste.

"Oh, love," said Cheryl sadly, turning back to Ste, "he's right, we've only just taken on Macca, and…"

"Macca, the guy who just ran away?" Ste interrupted.

Brendan gave him a sharp look.

"Macca ran away?" Cheryl asked, surprised.

Brendan's look turned into a glare, that disappeared the moment Cheryl turned to him, "Yeah, some problem at home, had to get back to Ireland…"

"Oh, was that what it was?" Ste asked, staring at Brendan. Even if the man wanted him to think there was no job here, Ste could at least see a way he could make one.

"Yeah," replied Brendan, eyes narrowing on Ste, who suspected he was now suddenly Brendan's least favourite person. "Yeah, something to do with his Ma or something."

"Well, is he coming back?" asked Cheryl, distressed.

"Nope," replied Brendan, putting his head to one side, "but we can do better than this streak of…"

"Now, I'm not sure it was his Mam, actually" Ste interrupted. "Now what was it he said?" he put his head on one side as though he were thinking, and maybe he was wondering why he wanted to work for this man who looked ready to punch him.

Brendan snorted, "While you think on that, little Steven, maybe Macca's departure means there is something you can do for us." He said the words with a smile, but Ste could read 'If you shut up, I might not beat you to a pulp,' between the lines.

"Yeah, you're right," said Ste, taking whatever he was offered, "it was his Mam, now I think about it, and I'd be grateful for anything you can offer me. I've got kids, me."

"Yeah," replied Brendan, and turned to storm back to the bar.

Cheryl grinned at Ste. "I think that means you're hired!"

Ste returned the smile, though worried about what on Earth he'd just let himself in for.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Not a huge response, but I guess I uploaded pretty late at night. Anyway, here's the next bit, in case this catches more imaginations. Thanks to everyone who did review, it's always nice to hear what you think.**

**For those of you who are interested, A House of Pomegranates was a collection of strange stories by Oscar Wilde, something like fairytales, where people cut off their souls and the sons of shepherds become kings and reject all the trappings of wealth. I just thought it was an interesting name. Thanks to Ruthyroo for suggesting using the name of an Oscar Wilde work.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Ste realised quickly, as Cheryl showed him around the club, that he had completely underestimated Chez Chez. It was massive, spreading over multiple floors of the building. The lower bar, the far less impressive one that Ste had waited in, was the less exclusive part. Normal people went there to dance and have a laugh, though what Cheryl, in her spectacular dress that looked a hundred years out of date while obviously more expensive than all of Amy's clothes put together, thought was normal was a mystery to Ste.

On the floor above, the level where Ste had seen the chandelier, was the place Cheryl described as the VIP section.

"Very important people," she whispered conspiratorially to Ste when he looked at her blankly, "we get all sorts; factory owners, businessmen, the odd member of the aristocracy. Downstairs is more ordinary, but up here we have people who are somebody, you know?" Ste nodded, though he wasn't sure he did.

She pointed at some stairs, "And up there is the most exclusive part of the club. It's Brendan's baby, really, I mean, even I almost never go up there."

Ste found himself staring at the stairs, overwhelmingly curious about what was up there, what secrets the strange, handsome man kept up there.

"But you, Ste Hay," cooed Cheryl, with laughter in her voice, "you will be spending most of your time somewhere far more exclusive."

She led him down some stairs behind the bar. They seemed to go down forever, into the dark depths of the house. There Ste found a cellar. It was clean, but packed full of bottles and barrels, stacked tidily against one wall were a series of wheeled trolleys, and by the stairs were a couple of holes in the walls revealing pullies. Behind the stairs, in another room, was a sink. Ste had only seen a handful before, plumbed into a house.

"So, you'll mostly be working down here, fetching and carrying stuff."

"Fine," said Ste, happily. As long as there was no one taking the piss or pushing him around, he would be happy. And this job looked much easier than the farm. And so far he really like Cheryl. Working for her would be a breeze.

"These are our dumb waiters," she said, tapping the holes in the wall, "they're for taking the awkward things up so we don't have to struggle on the stairs." She laughed, "I say we; of course I mean you!" She looked longingly at one, "but Brendan still won't let me see if I can fit."

Ste laughed, but only because he suddenly really wanted to try that too.

"Jacqui will teach you how to work them," Cheryl assured him, "and that's, erm, that's the club."

"It's great," said Ste, honestly.

"Well, thank you, babe," Cheryl exclaimed, beaming at him, "Aren't you a sweetie? Why don't you get started on that pile of washing up, and I'll send Jacqui down to show you the dumb waiter."

"Thanks," said Ste, and smiled as she swept from the cellar and back up the stairs. He'd done it. He was employed. He'd found a job in a decent place, for money that would keep them all fed and clothed and sheltered, If Amy got one, too, then they could afford decent food and stuff, and maybe even a day in Blackpool.

He whistled as he approached the sink, ready to get his hands dirty and the cups clean. He figured out the plug and turned the taps, almost laughing at the sight of the clean water filling the sink before his very eyes. He'd had to pump to get this at the farm. He found some soap and started scrubbing, enjoying the sounds of the water, the hubbub from above and the feeling of new found hope.

He couldn't believe he'd already forgotten about Brendan. He would have kicked himself had Brendan not already obviously decided to punish him for the over-sight.

The tall frame was suddenly pinning Ste to the sink, hips against his arse. A hand grabbed the back of his neck, another his shoulder, and before he knew it, he was being shoved towards the water. He closed his eyes and tried to gasp in some air before the water cut off his supply.

But the liquid never hit his face, though he'd stood frozen and still for long enough before he realised it wasn't coming. The hold on him was tight, not giving him the smallest space to move, and he found himself staring at the water beneath him.

"Can you see how easy it would be for me to get rid of you, Steven?" Brendan's voice growled, quietly, the hairs of his moustache tickling Ste's ear.

Unable to nod with that grip in his hair, Ste could only gasp "Yes, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" hissed Brendan, "you're sorry now, Steven, but the only reason you're still breathing is them kiddies of yours. I do not take kindly to blackmail."

"I'm sorry," Ste repeated, heart pounding and breath coming in great fearful gasps, "I just really needed a job! Please!"

"This is just a warning, boy. You have no idea what I am capable of."

Ste tried to fight back the tears sparked by Brendan's words and the images of his dead body floating up river. Or worse.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I had to get a job."

Brendan still held him, but as he didn't go to actually kill him, or even hurt him, he must have begun to forgive him. "You have one week to show me you're not completely feckless."

Ste, nose still inches from the water, hips pressed against the sink, just managed to gasp out a "Thank you."

But Brendan wasn't done. He pressed his body further into Ste's and growled, "If you even try anything like that again, I'll end ye. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" cried Ste, and hoped Brendan would let him go now. The older man didn't, though his hands seemed to loosen their grip slightly. The hand on his arm even moved. It almost turned into a stroke.

Then suddenly Brendan had let him go. He almost shoved himself away, breathing strangely, then laughing humourlessly. Ste didn't dare turn away from the sink.

"Well, back to work, chop chop," Brendan snapped, before storming back up the stairs, leaving Ste in confusion. Not at Brendan. He really should have seen that coming. It was his own reaction that got him. He was scared, of course he was, but his skin where Brendan had held him felt like it was burning. The hair on his arms was standing on end. And his erection was digging painfully into the sink.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Cheryl gave Ste twenty minutes to go tell Amy. He practically ran all the way, the journey was more about quarter of an hour each way, and when he got there he was breathing heavily. Amy, who had been sat on the kitchen chair watching the children play with clear exhaustion on her face, sprang to her feet as he came in.

"Ste! I was so worried!" she looked at him with frightened eyes – she still wasn't sure to believe he wouldn't hurt her again. "I haven't got you any tea yet. I can get you something really quick…"

"Nevermind, I can't stay. I got a job!"

Amy's eyes lit up. "Ste, that's incredible!"

"I know," Ste replied, "so there's no need to worry about anything anymore." He got closer to her and kissed her on the forehead, "and I mean anything."

"Oh, I'm so proud of you, Steven Hay," she said, throwing her arms around his neck, and Ste was glad she couldn't see his blush. She wouldn't be proud of him if she knew what he'd done to get the job. And even less if she knew he was already on the wrong side of a man like Brendan.

"Did you hear that, kids?" she sang, "your clever Daddy has a job!" and the kids cheered dutifully, even though Ste was sure they had no idea what a job was.

Ste decided it was better not to mention Brendan at all right now.

"A job I've got to get back to, and now if I want to keep it!" he told them kissing both kids on the forehead. "Be good for your Mum," he added, and darted back out the door, knocking into people as he sprinted back to work. It was knocking off time at some of the factories and the streets were suddenly awash with people. It took him twice as long to get back as it had to get home, and his stomach was beginning to grumble.

He knew he was late when he reached the club because of the sounds coming from inside. There was a tinkling of a piano and a wave of voices. He ran to the door and knocked.

Warren opened and scowled down at him. "He never gave you a job!" he sneered.

Ste didn't reply, but he tried to get around the mountain of Warren's body currently blocking the door. Warren stepped into his way. "I don't think so, rat boy," he jeered.

"I'm late for me shift, Warren," he said and tried to get past the other way.

Warren's response was to grab his ear. "Not this way, rat boy. We've got another entrance for vermin like you."

He grabbed Ste's ear and pulled him back up the path, through the front gate and around the side of the house. There were snickers from passing workers as they trundled by to see Ste being dragged like a child, and he flushed red, trying to shove Warren away from him. The man really was built like a bull, though, and there was no way Ste could do anything except let himself be dragged.

At the back of the house, Warren gave Ste a shove, and watched with glee as Ste stumbled wildly down the six stone stairs that led to a low door. Heart racing with panic, Ste grazed his hands against the floor, but managed to cope well enough; Terry had pushed him off enough things that he'd learnt how to land.

"Oi!" shouted a voice from the doorway, and Ste groaned.

He could cope with Warren hating him for no good reason and he could cope with Brendan hating him for a bit of a good reason, but if they decided to join hating forces, Ste may have a real problem.

"What do you think you're doing?" shouted Brendan, as he stepped moodily through the door.

**Reviews are always appreciated, particularly if they contain constructive criticism!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 4 is being hard to write, so in the meantime, here's chapter 3. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think, good or bad!**

Ste clambered to his feet – apologies were better from standing than from the floor – and was about to begin grovelling when Warren's voice answered, laced with a sulk.

"He didn't know where to go, so I thought I'd show him."

"By throwing one of my employees down some stairs?" asked Brendan, accusatorily.

"He was being mouthy," Warren replied, nonchalantly.

Ste decided not to protest that he'd only been trying to walk in so he could get to work. He didn't particularly want Brendan to notice him while he wore that expression, or bring down Warren's wrath on him for making this situation worse.

"And who is on the door, then, Foxy?" intoned Brendan, tone playful but dangerous.

"I've only been gone a minute," the doorman grumbled.

"And what if Mr Houston had arrived in that minute, eh? Or worse, one of the other lot?"

"Who do you think you're talking to, Paddy?" growled Warren, in a voice that shouted 'I'm up for a fight' from the rooftops. It didn't seem to affect Brendan.

"An employee," the Irishman replied, calmly, "currently, anyway."

Warren glared at him with eyes like fire, and Ste realised his treatment at Warren's hands was merely an excuse for a confrontation between these two men that could have been bubbling away for months. The tension between Brendan and Warren was thick enough to suffocate, and Ste couldn't help wondering why on Earth Brendan had employed the man. Blackmail probably wasn't the normal method of getting a job from Brendan Brady. Though Ste didn't think even Brendan could have pinned Warren against a sink to prove his masculinity.

"Don't let your sister hear you talking like that. It gets her all upset when we don't get on." Warren's voice was jeering, taunting,

"Get back to work," snapped Brendan.

"Oh, the things we was doing last night" crowed Warren, nastily, "I couldn't even name half of them."

"Shut your mouth, Warren," Brendan warned.

Warren leaned forward, conspiratorially, "Some of it was stuff not even a prossie would do." He laughed aloud, "There's names for girls like your sister."

Brendan let out a roar and ran at the man, clearly ready to beat the crap out of him. If Ste had any sense at all, he would have kept well clear and let them fight it out. He would have found out who was the strongest, who was able to cause him the most damage, and then he could find a way to get on that one's right side. If such a thing existed.

But Ste wasn't smart. He didn't know why he did it, if he had any sense at all, but he grabbed Brendan round the middle as he passed, trying to stop him.

Ste did manage to slow Brendan down a little, but mostly he just managed to piss him off. He was dragged a few feet before the older man was shouting at him and calling him an eejit, though Ste had never heard the word before, and he shouted back "He wants to wind you up, he wants you to hit him," before the reason for Warren's little game walked out to see them.

"What on Earth's going on?" cried Cheryl.

"Oh, your brother decided to do his talking with his fists again," crowed Warren, as Brendan managed to shake Ste off, who, believing Brendan was calm enough, let him go.

Cheryl turned to Brendan, her face full of disappointment, "Oh Brendan," she sighed.

"But he was winding him up!" Ste protested without thinking.

"What?" said Cheryl, clearly surprised that the person who had been fighting with Brendan was now standing up for the man. Brendan looked equally surprised, while Warren shot Ste a warning look that he promptly ignored. If anyone had spoken about Amy like that, his reaction would have been the same as Brendan's, and Amy would have needed to know why, especially if it came from someone she trusted.

"He was bad mouthing ya," said Ste, pointing at Warren.

Cheryl looked at him pityingly. "Warren and I are stepping out, Ste, he wouldn't bad mouth me."

"But…" Ste protested.

"So, what did he say then?"

Ste went red. He couldn't repeat the foul things Warren had said. Cheryl took that the way she wanted and nodded triumphantly, turning back to Brendan, disappointment back on her face.

"So now you've got the staff so scared of you they'll lie to my face," she accused, softly, "I despair at you sometimes, Brendan."

Ste expected Brendan, the man who'd threatened to drown him for pushing too hard to get a job, would stand up for himself, would make Cheryl see that she was wrong, but instead he kind of froze at her disapproval. It was as though he couldn't fight back for himself, couldn't do anything that would upset Cheryl further.

And Warren knew it. "He scares them poor boys like that, Cheryl," the mountain sneered, "I've told him before, it's no way to run a business, having your staff scared of a beating. Like that little Vinnie. He frightened the life out of that poor lad."

Brendan gave Warren a look of pure poison, but still didn't speak up for himself. "But…" Ste started to protest for him, but shut himself up this time. This was not a situation he could come out of well, whatever he said.

Cheryl gave Brendan one more disapproving glance, then looked up at Warren, whose smug smirk she must have interpreted as a smile, as she grinned at him. "Are we still on for later, love?" she asked, flirtily.

Warren's look was one of forced excitement. "Oh, I've been thinking about it all day," he replied.

Cheryl giggled. Brendan looked ready to throttle someone, and while Ste was angry on Brendan's behalf, he was mostly hoping that the throttlee wouldn't be him.

"Well, I'll see you later, then," Cheryl cooed at her boyfriend, while Brendan managed to look both meek and like a tiger ready to pounce all at once. He grunted an acknowledgement of Cheryl's last reproachful glance, but all was quiet for a few moments as the three men waited for her to be out of earshot. Warren got in first.

"Oh, you're a naughty, naughty boy, Brenny," he scolded, like a mother would a child, "no supper for you!"

Brendan's face was one of pure hatred, but he managed not to explode. "You think you've won, Foxy? This ain't over."

He spun dramatically on his heels and marched back inside, taking Ste with him. As soon as they were out of earshot of Warren, he turned to Ste, who wondered if he was about to be thanked for trying to stand up for him.

He wasn't.

Brendan's face was still one of fury, and his words were growled, more animal than human. "He's gotten away with that for too long, and he'll be getting what for soon enough. He's only lasted this long because he's dating my sister and he's a big guy. You, young Steven, are neither of those things, and you will not be getting away with anything, do you understand?"

"Yeah," Ste replied, sulkily, "I'm not an idiot."

Brendan looked at him appraisingly. "You are flying close to the wind, boy," he growled. "there's a pile the size of Warren that needs washing, and you'll have to go up to the lower bar to collect the rest yourself. And don't think I didn't notice your time keeping."

"Sorry," Ste said again, feeling like that was the word of the day, and hoping it would finally be enough. But Brendan just stared at him.

"I'm watching you, Steven," he said, which Ste thought was unnecessary. Brendan had said something similar lots of times already, and was currently staring at him like he'd grown a new head. "Show me your hands," he said.

"What?" asked Ste. No one had asked him that since he was a kid, and they'd wanted to cane him for dirty fingernails.

"Show me your hands," Brendan repeated, slowly, and emphasising each word with a pressure like anger.

Ste lifted his hands, palm up like he had in school, and followed Brendan's gaze towards them. He had forgotten about the grazes in all the drama. They were they looked like dirt had already been embedded in them, the skin peeling back and showing the blood underneath, and if he spent the night with his hands in water, they would only get worse. "Oh," he said.

"You'll be fucking useless to me if they don't dry out," Brendan muttered.

"Sorry," Ste said. Would he sack him already? Would he have to go and tell Amy he'd let her down already? "I didn't…"

"I'll send Rhys down," Brendan continued, ignoring his response. "You can serve behind the bar and collect the pots."

"Er…" Ste said, ineffectively.

"Well, get to it then," Brendan ordered.

"Thanks," said Ste, recognising it for what it was. This was Brendan's version of kind, and Ste wasn't going to question it, and he wasn't going to push his luck. He trotted up the stairs in a hurry, feeling Brendan's eyes on him all the way.

This was going to be unpredictable.

**Please review! Just below here...**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

Working in the bar was surprisingly good fun. Ste, of course, had been restricted to the lower floor, the more normal part of the club (Brendan's compassion definitely did not extend to letting him serve rich people.) The punters were funny, and mostly pleasant and in a good mood, and though Rhys had given him a scowl at Brendan's instructions, Jacqui had greeted him with a grin and a quick round up of prices. It was hard to keep all the numbers in his head at once, and even harder when people bought lots of drinks, but he got used to it. It had been letters he couldn't cope with at school. Numbers were fine.

People were having a great time all around him. A bunch of them were singing badly along to the piano, some were playing card games, and lots were chatting animatedly to members of the opposite sex, though, as Ste would have expected, there weren't really enough women to go round. The women who were there, though, were like nothing Ste had ever seen. They were in such bright colours and seemed to shine in the light from the candles.

In amongst it all, though, Brendan seemed to steal a part of Ste's brain at every moment. He wasn't doing anything particularly interesting, just chatting to the odd guest or giving the odd potential trouble maker a death glare, but Ste couldn't stop himself returning his thoughts to the tall dark handsome man. He thought about those hands upon him, the pressure of those hips pushing his own into the hard surface of the sink, his own body's reaction.

But if he wanted to get through today, he couldn't let his mind get lost. He served, he collected, he avoided the pinches giggling girls aimed at his bottom, and pretended not to notice the looks of some of the men. Brendan occasionally disappeared, too.

At one stage, when Brendan had vanished up the stairs, presumably to his special 'ultra-vip', Cheryl suddenly appeared at his elbow.

"Oh, Ste, could you do me a favour?" she blustered, "I only just sent Jacqui off to do something and this broke off."

She dangled a golden chain with a large cross shaped pendant decorated with green swirls. "It's a celtic cross," she explained, "my da gave me it a long time ago. Family heirloom. It'd break my heart if it was broken forever."

Ste took the chain. The clasp was loose, but that seemed to be all that was wrong with it, so Ste squeezed it, then used the bar and a heavy glass to squeeze it further. When they looked again, the clasp was closer. It wasn't fixed properly, but it would stay for now.

"Oh, you Ste Hay, are a life saver. A true gentleman." She turned and lifted her hair off her neck, and Ste took a few moments to realise she wanted him to put the necklace back on her. He did so nervously, worried about the possible reactions of Brendan or Warren, should they walk in and see what could be interpreted as quite an intimate action. Of course, Brendan did choose that moment to return to that part of the bar. He looked at the pair of them thoughtfully for a moment, but didn't comment. Instead he spoke to Cheryl.

"Look, Chez, I've been thinking. You're right, me and Foxy need to sort out our differences, talk it over like men."

"That's what I've been say for weeks!" Cheryl exclaimed, and though Ste had no reason to stay here, he found himself listening on, doubting every word Brendan said despite Cheryl's enthusiasm.

"Of course ye have," Brendan continued, "and I was thinking tonight."

"Oh, babe!" protested Cheryl, "me and Warren have plans tonight!"

Ste realised Brendan obviously knew this already,

"Yeah, sorry," said Brendan, "it's just that I've got the top floor free tonight, and, you know, we want this sorted, don't we?"

"Well…" Cheryl looked very disappointed, "I guess. I mean… OK… I suppose."

"Grand," replied Brendan, "well, I'll get that sorted. Thanks sis."

He kissed her on the check, then marched off, leaving a sad looking Cheryl. Ste felt the need to comfort her, despite his strange sense of dread about the whole thing.

"There'll be other nights," he said.

"Yeah," Cheryl replied, uncertainly.

"And maybe then they'll start getting on…" Ste suggested.

"You think so?" Cheryl asked, hopefully.

'No,' Ste thought, but aloud he said "Maybe."

"Yes," she said, either ignoring or not noticing his lack of conviction. Ste let her. If Ste had learnt anything from Terry it was to mind his own business, and he could carry that on now. However tempting it would be to fail with someone like Brendan around.

"You're new," said a voice close to his ear.

He spun, surprised, and almost brought up the fists he'd learned to keep handy whenever Terry took him by surprise. He managed, just in time, to keep them down by his side. This was no place for fighting, least of all because there was no way he'd win against Brendan or Warren.

The voice belonged to neither. Instead, a stranger gave him a gap-toothed grin.

"Er, yeah," Ste confirmed, "just started today."

The stranger smiled, and said "I'm Noah by the way."

"Ste," replied Ste, though not at all sure it was the right thing to do.

"Must be brave, working for the Bradys," Noah commented, tone friendly despite his words.

"They're alright," Ste protested, though knowing his words were foundationless. So far, Brendan had showed himself to be scary and Cheryl blind.

Noah looked doubting, "Well, Cheryl's nice enough, but Brendan's a nutter, isn't it?"

Ste felt compelled to protect his new boss, "He gave me a job, I ain't complaining."

Noah simply grunted, "Well, watch out for him. I wouldn't cross him any more than I'd cross Danny Houston."

Ste decided to convince himself his stab of protective annoyance came from not know who Danny Houston was. He didn't like feeling thick. "Well, if Brendan's so bad, how come you drink here?"

The stranger smirked, cheekily, "He may be dodgy, but he's got a good taste in barmen."

Ste blushed, and turned to do some work. Any work.

"Hey, don't run off," Noah protested.

"I've got to get on with me work, me," Ste replied.

"Wait," Noah called after him, sounding genuinely remorseful; "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh, you didn't," Ste assured, "I just… you know…"

"Will you be working tomorrow?" Noah asked hopefully.

"Er…"

"I just…" Noah began, but he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Ste's moustachioed boss.

"And what's going on here?" Brendan asked in a low growl.

"We're just chatting," replied Noah, casually.

Brendan glared at the man, as though he was hoping he'd drop dead from the stare.

"Well, Steven is working," he growled. Ste took the hint, and tried to walk round the pair of them to collect some glasses, but Noah caught his arm.

"What's the problem, Brendan? You don't mind the girls flirting with the customers."

Brendan stared him down, "Who said anything about flirting?" he hissed.

"Come on Brendan, we're just chatting," Noah replied, though clearly aware that he was pushing Brendan's boundaries.

Brendan glared at him a moment longer, then, quietly, said, "Out."

Noah looked shocked, "You what?"

Brendan stepped closer, "I said 'out'. It means get out. Need me to find you a dictionary?"

"You can't throw me out for talking to someone!" Noah protested.

"Can't I?" Brendan hissed.

Noah opened his mouth and closed it again.

"Tell you what," Brendan continued, voice more conversational, "you get out now, and I don't break your legs, how does that sound?"

Noah glanced at Ste, as though hoping he would intercede on his behalf. Ste was not going to do that.

"I don't like to repeat myself," Brendan growled, giving Noah a derisive glance up and down, "whoever you are," he finished.

"I'm going," Noah replied, but dropped his hand from Ste's arm to his hand, "I'll see you around Ste," he said with a smile to the young man, and gave his hand a squeeze before turning and walking from the club, leaving Ste with his probably pissed off boss, though thankfully an otherwise full club which would hopefully restrict said boss's violence.

Ste worriedly looked at Brendan, expecting a dressing down. Brendan's face expression was not a happy one, and he glared at Noah's retreating form. When his gaze moved to Ste's, though, it wasn't the same.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ste frowned, "course."

Brendan grunted, "Yeah." He cleared his throat, "you get anyone bothering you like that, you just come to me, yeah?"

"Er, yeah?" Ste replied, nervously.

"Yeah," replied Brendan, hesitating a moment before he marched off. Ste watched him go, puzzled. But the press of people around him snapped him out of his reverie, and he dashed off about the room to collect glasses.

The rest of the night flew by in a blur, and at the end of it all Ste considered hanging around. He really wanted to find out more about Brendan, checking out what he had planned, but he decided against it. Brendan would not approve, however mixed the signals were. Ste went home with a cheery goodnight to a slightly lonely looking Cheryl, and a curious glance at the two men disappearing up the stairs, alcohol in hand, and twin mischievous expressions on their faces.

**Reviews make my day! x**


	5. Chapter 5

Ste was one of the first in the following morning. He'd learnt his lesson, though, and trundled to the back of the club and to the back door, and was surprised to find it locked. He knocked, urgently.

It took time for a shadowy figure to move in the darkness within. It seemed to stir slowly, as if it was stiff, and made its way to the door without haste.

A topless Brendan Brady emerged into the cold light from the pale morning sky. He opened the door as unhurriedly as he'd made his way to the doorway, and Ste found himself stuck to the ground, unable to look away.

The man was stunning. He wasn't built like a mountain, like Warren, but there was no denying the size and strength of those muscles. The skin around them looked like it would be soft to touch, contrasting with the muscles themselves that looked like they would be as hard and inflexible as steel.

No wonder Ste had been so easily held by them.

Brendan's chest was smattered with a layer of hair, as dark as that on the man's head. It wasn't coated like an animal, but the hair was thick enough that Ste found himself jealous even while he was appreciating the sight. Brendan just oozed unashamed, unquestionable masculinity. Not pretty, but impossibly handsome.

He ruined it with a smirk. "See something you like Steven?"

"Er…" Ste replied.

"You coming in, or are you just gonna stand there gawping like a fish?"

Ste closed his mouth, and Brendan held his smug smile as he let Ste past him. Ste decided to avoid looking at Brendan now for as long as he could. Or at least until the man had put a shirt on again. "Er…" he said again.

"I hope I didn't employ an idiot, Steven" said Brendan, a hint of warning in his voice.

"No," Ste managed, "where do you want me… I mean... I what can I do for… What should I do?"

Brendan took pity on him and picked up a shirt, putting in on casually, "You can clear up anything they missed last night, then restock the bar," he said, as he started on the buttons unhurriedly.

"Right," said Ste, "I mean, yes sir."

Brendan snorted at that, while Ste couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the better of him.

"Do you, like, live here?"

Brendan raised his eyebrows, and Ste hurried to limit the damage.

"I mean, the shirt and that, you know. I'm just curious, I mean." He realised that Brendan was smirking

"No," he older man replied, "but I had some business last night, and there didn't seem to be any point waking everyone up."

Ste suddenly had a desperate need to find out who Brendan meant by 'everyone'.

"Oh," he said, holding back his curiosity on that, but curiosity about the previous night got the better of him. "Oh, did you make up with Warren?"

"What?" Brendan demanded, as though surprised, all humour suddenly gone from his voice.

"Er… you said, last night, that…"

"Stop," Brendan ordered, and Ste's mouth snapped shut, "you better keep in mind what side your bread is buttered, young Steven."

"I was only asking," Ste muttered, surprised and worried by how quickly the conversation had deteriorated to Brendan using that threatening tone.

"Well, don't," Brendan replied coolly.

"Sorry," said Ste, putting his head down, and turning, hoping to escape to the bar, and get to work. Brendan's annoyance seemed to get to him more than most people's would.

"Oi," Brendan called after him, making him stop, "show me your hands."

The order took Ste by surprise again. Brendan remembered. That meant more to Ste than he was willing to let on, even if the asking was in the form of a gruff order. He showed Brendan his hands, now lightly wrapped in bandages Amy had made from an old shirt early that morning.

"Who did them?" Brendan asked, eyes slightly narrowed.

"Amy," Ste replied, honestly, checking the bandage was still on properly,

Brendan blinked, but didn't respond. Ste didn't speak either. He didn't want to break this strange spell. Brendan wasn't looking at his hands any more And however much the weird, changeable tempers and occasional threat freaked Ste out, he couldn't help hoping Brendan would step closer, close the gap between them.

The moment vanished with the sudden appearance of a bright pink and purple, low cut dress, decorated by yellow stars, and currently containing a breezy Cheryl.

"Oh, hello Ste, love," she greeted, "Brendan, you haven't seen that necklace Dad gave me lying around have you? The clasp was dodgy yesterday, and I think it fell off."

"Not seen it Chez," Brendan replied.

"Ste?" she asked.

"Only just got here, Cheryl," he replied, "but I'll keep an eye open for it."

"Thank you, love," she replied, pleasantly, "it's probably just fallen off and landed behind something. It'll show up."

"Course," Ste replied, though Brendan remained stiffly silent.

"Oh, and have either of you seen Warren?" she asked, "did you two get drunk last night?" she asked Brendan conspiratorially.

Brendan shushed her jovially, "Just a bit, but he left early. Said he was meeting someone. Must say I assumed he meant you."

"Oh," she said, a flash of worry crossing her expression.

"Oh Chez, I'm sure he just didn't want to wake you or something," Brendan assured her.

"Yeah," Cheryl replied, "yeah, you're right."

"He'll turn up," Brendan reassured.

"Yeah," she sighed, "course he will."

Brendan seemed to hold too still a moment, as though he were waiting for something he knew was coming, but didn't want to bring up himself. His moustache twitched with tension, and Ste couldn't help but be curious. It was gone in a moment when Cheryl said;

"Bren, you couldn't… you know… go and check on him, could ye?"

Brendan sighed, "Chez…"

Cheryl turned on the puppy dog eyes, "I know you're busy, but…"

"Chez, I can't go swanning about after your boyfriend!"

"Please, Bren…"

Brendan's mouth frowned, but his eyes sparkled with a strange satisfaction, which worried Ste a little bit.

"I'll send Steven," Brendan conceded,

Ste did not like that idea.

"Er…" he said, angrily.

"Aw, thank you love," Cheryl interrupted, not waiting for Ste's complaint, "and thanks Ste. It's not far, it's just round the corner."

"I'll give him directions," Brendan offered, "You get started on the decorations for tonight, yeah?"

Cheryl kissed her brother's cheek, and thanked him again, which annoyed Ste even more, because it wasn't Brendan sent to wake up a probably angry bear twice his size who threw people down stairways for fun.

He glared at Brendan, who smirked at the sight.

"He's just overslept, that's all," Brendan assured, "just give him a shake and offer him some food and get back her sharpish. Piece of cake."

"And avoid the punches?" Ste said, sarcastically.

"I wouldn't send ye if I thought it was dangerous. If he's any trouble, just run back here and let us sort it out."

Ste doubted it was going to be that easy. Brendan wanted Ste to go so he wouldn't have to go himself. There was more to this. But Ste wanted to keep his job, and resignedly took the directions given to him.

Warren did live near the club, at the top of a dark building that kind of suited him. There was something threatening about the feel of the whole place, and Ste felt his heart speed up and his adrenaline begin to surface as he walked in and up the stairs. The place was strangely quiet, as if there were no children within a mile, something Ste doubted.

He knocked cautiously on the door he believed to be Warren's. There was no answer from within, but the door pushed open easily under his knuckles, so he opened it all the way and peered through the gloom.

There was heavy material blocking the sun out, but the door behind Ste let in some light from the hall. Just enough for Ste to make out a slightly messy floor, a small collection of empty wine and beer bottles on a table, numerous items of clothing spread around the place and two figures in the bed.

Ste let out an anxious breath. This was clearly why Brendan hadn't wanted to come. Warren must have left last night with this girl, or Brendan had suspected he had, and Brendan didn't want to have to tell Cheryl. Did that mean he wanted Ste to?

Ste hoped not. Cheryl wouldn't believe him, and then Warren would beat the crap out of him. This was probably just a way to avoid the fallout. Ste was to wake Warren up and never mention it again, while Brendan could safely say he hadn't lied to his sister.

He trod carefully as he made his way through the dim room, avoiding clothes and the odd glass littering the floor, and made his way to Warren's side of the bed.

He had a hand out, about to shake Warren awake when he saw it. There, on the nightstand, glinting softly in the dull light from the door, lay a golden chain with a familiar pendant. It couldn't be, could it? Warren wouldn't steel Cheryl's pendant. Maybe he'd picked it up and was looking after it. But even as Ste looked he know that wasn't true. Cheryl's wasn't the only necklace there. And necklaces weren't the only valuable things. Ste was pretty sure none of them belonged to Warren.

He turned slowly. He had to get out of here without waking up the bully. He tiptoed cautiously, avoiding all the mess on the floor, and didn't let himself sprint until he got to the door. He ran straight back to the club. Brendan needed to know this.

He found the man writing on a clipboard by the stairs, and ran straight to him. "Brendan," he cried, voice ragged from running and panic, "Warren's got Cheryl's necklace, and loads of others, I think he's been nicking them!"

Brendan looked up, face totally calm. "What?" he said.

"Warren stole Cheryl's necklace. He's probably been nicking from everyone. It's all in his room. And he's got another woman in there."

Brendan's look was thoughtful, calm, but with a hint of satisfaction, and his gaze travelled upwards, beyond Ste. Ste followed it, to see Cheryl looking like a tall, multi-coloured avenging angel.

"He's done what?" she demanded, icily.

"Er," Ste replied, glancing at Brendan with worry, certain Brendan would not want this coming out, would not want his sister to be hurt.

"Don't look at him," Cheryl ordered, "He's not _his_ boyfriend. Look at me, and tell me what you think you saw!"

"Er," Ste said again, mumbling now, "Warren stole your necklace and is in bed with another woman," he told the floor.

Cheryl stamped down the stairs. "If you're lying to me, I'll tell Warren what you said, and let Warren do whatever he wants to you."

Ste did not like the sound of that.

"I'm not lying," he said, though he was aware that anything could have woken Warren by now, giving him enough time to stash the loot and get rid of the girl. He was putting himself into a tricky situation.

"Well, I think we'd best go check, don't you sis?" Brendan's voice was chipper, his sister's broken heart clearly not as important to him as the potential excitement of destroying a rival. "Come on, Steven," he said, giving Ste a good nudge in the direction of the door. Ste took the hint and walked himself the rest of the way out of the building, while Brendan walked behind Cheryl.

**AN: So, will Warren break Ste's legs? Is Brendan up to something? Will we actually get a Stendan snog? (probably at least one of these things will happen...) Want more? Review! x**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I love to hear what you think! I hope you enjoy!**

Morose Cheryl looked wrong to Ste as they walked to Warren's, like it was a crime against nature to upset someone so colourful and full of life. She obviously didn't notice the odd looks she got from passers-by, or the comments on her dress sense, but what Warren had done damaged her. Ste felt angry at himself for letting her find out. Surely there could have been a way for him to sort this without her getting so hurt?

Brendan took the lead the moment they entered the building Warren lived in, signalling everyone to be quiet, and entering as Ste had done. The door at the top was still open, and to Ste's enormous relief, Warren was still sleeping peacefully. Next to him was the same beautiful girl, with blond hair that shone in the light. Cheryl let out a growl of fury at the sight, but Brendan put his finger to his lips, and quietly made his way to Warren's side of the bed, where he picked up the necklace and wordlessly brought it back to Cheryl. She snatched it.

"Kill him, Brendan," she hissed.

Brendan smirked with satisfaction, "You want me to hang for him, do ye?"

"No, I want him to pay!" Cheryl snarled.

Brendan nodded, "Go and fetch a copper. Me and Steven'll keep him here."

Cheryl nodded grimly, and left, while Ste recognised what was wrong. Brendan hadn't even tried to keep his voice down. He had no fear that Warren would wake. Either he was pretty sure Cheryl would find a policeman quickly or he knew Warren wasn't doing a runner.

Ste's suspicions were confirmed when the girl sat up and glared at Brendan. "You took your time," she said accusingly.

Brendan glanced at Ste, but answered her lazily, "I've paid ye enough to keep you waiting another day if I want."

The girl snorted. "You ain't paying me anywhere near enough for sleeping with that."

Warren grunted in his sleep, and Ste breathed a sigh of relief that he was definitely still alive.

"Point," said Brendan, "now, fuck off before the cops arrive, unless you fancy joining him."

The girl got up, and Ste looked away from the sight of her. She dressed quickly, carrying her shoes and stockings as she went. She winked at him on the way out.

"You set him up?" Ste asked, stupidly.

Brendan got too close to him, "Got a problem with that, young Steven?" Brendan asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, it's not…"

"I told ye he was getting his, and if you don't wanna join him, I'd watch what you say!"

Ste glanced at Warren only for a moment. He wasn't sure this was OK. So, Warren was a bully, it didn't mean he deserved to go to prison. "Did he even nick that stuff?" he asked.

"None of that stuff, no," Brendan replied with a smirk, "he might be an idiot, but even Warren ain't thick enough to keep that much on display beside him."

"But… you know he's a thief?" Ste asked, hopefully.

"I know he's worse," Brendan replied quietly. They heard footsteps on the stairs. "Decision time, Steven," Brendan prompted.

He was caught between two demons, with no way of knowing which was worse.

Cheryl, out of breath, barged into the room, followed by two equally out of breath policemen. They'd obviously run all the way.

"Officers," Brendan greeted, "that's the man you're after. We found him with all that stuff. We know that he took my sister's necklace, but we don't know who the rest belongs to."

The police didn't seem to need to know anything else. They surged forward and dragged Warren out of bed. The movement did what the voices of Ste and Brendan had failed, and penetrated his deep slumber. He mumbled, incoherently.

"He's still drunk!" Cheryl cried in disgust, but Ste doubted alcohol could be quite that effective. Brendan had given him more than that last night. But Warren was waking up now, falling as he was dragged out of bed.

"What? Get off me!" He slurred.

"You're under arrest, sir," said a policeman, trying to drag him up.

"What? What for?" Warren snarled, his voice still lazy with the influence of the drugs.

"Theft," said the other policeman.

Warren looked confused. Then angry. Then he saw Brendan.

"Brady!" he roared.

Suddenly Ste could tell it was twice as hard for the coppers to hold him, as in his rage he tried to get at Brendan. "He set me up!" he raged, "He sat me up!"

"Rubbish!" Cheryl shrieked.

"Cheryl!" Warren cried, suddenly pleading, "Chez, he set this up! He planted that stuff then called the police. It was all him!"

"No, Warren, _I _called the police, and it wasn't even Brendan who found you. It was Ste!"

Ste swore under his breath. He did not want that looked turned upon him. "You!" Warren growled. The police had him back under control, he was being dragged out, but he looked ready to kill. "You better watch your back, Ste," he growled.

Ste glanced at Brendan as the mountainous man was pulled from the building. How long would he be locked up for a couple of necklaces? Long enough for him to forget he wanted to murder Ste? Probably not.

"I'll get ya, Brady, you wait!" Warren shouted over his shoulder before he was out of sight, leaving Ste, Cheryl and Brendan alone, Ste shaken, Cheryl righteous and Brendan self-satisfied.

"Good riddance!" Cheryl announced, with satisfaction, and led them back down the stairs and all the way back to the club without another word, excusing herself as soon as they entered the building. At another time, Ste might have been concerned enough to check she was alright, but instead he followed Brendan into a small office up the stairs from the cellar, closing the door behind them.

For a moment he was too angry to speak.

"Problem, Steven?" Brendan asked, pleasantly.

"You set him up!" Ste cried.

Brendan put his head on one side, "I thought we already established that,"

"And you set me up too!" He couldn't help feeling upset by it, that Brendan would do that to him, put him in that situation. It made no sense. Why should he expect anything else of Brendan? He'd known him less than two days.

Brendan snorted, "Hardly."

And now Brendan was being dismissive. It was infuriating. "He threatened me!"

Brendan scoffed.

"I've got kids me!" Ste shouted, accusingly, "And you get that… that…"

"Warren," supplied Brendan.

"He thinks I'm a grass!" Ste finished.

"Well," said Brendan, leaning towards him, tone mocking, "you are, aren't ye?"

Ste was taken aback. "What?" Ste gasped.

"What was the first thing you did when you saw him with that stuff?" Brendan said, his voice infuriatingly know-it-all, and Ste did not like his point.

"I came _here_ to ask _you_ what we should do!" he protested.

Brendan seemed to consider him a moment. "Yes," he agreed, nodding, "yes, you did. And, what, you want a pat on the back now?"

"No!" Ste exclaimed.

Brendan stepped closer, "Come on, Steven, I've seen the way you look at me."

'Fuck' Ste thought. Aloud, he said "What?" uncertainly.

Brendan smirked. "Just two days here. There's only one reason you'd see this as a betrayal."

Ste's mouth gaped. Brendan had put his finger on it. This was betrayal, not anger he was feeling. And it wasn't reasonable, but it was true. And he knew exactly what Brendan was suggesting by pointing that out. It had been suggested of him before, more than one time by Terry. All of those times had ended in a beating. But the way Brendan was implying it felt like something completely different. Like it wasn't disgusting. Could Brendan possibly …

Brendan smirked, then lifted one hand and gently stroked Ste's hair away from his face. Ste felt a sudden surge of confidence at the gesture. He knew exactly what Brendan was thinking right now. It was just confirming what Brendan's reaction to Noah, and that strange moment earlier had suggested.

But Ste was not going to let Brendan control this.

"I've no idea what you're talking about, Brendan," he said, innocently.

Brendan quirked an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Not a clue," Ste replied, "maybe you need to just say it."

Brendan's tash quirked with irritation, and it made Ste smirk.

"What is it, Brendan?" he crowed, though inside he was egging Brendan on. He could do this.

Brendan grunted. "Get back to work," he said, and pushed past Ste without another look.

So, Brendan couldn't admit it. He needed to be able to blame Ste, he needed to be in control.

Ste almost grinned. He knew a way around this.

**AN: Will Ste be able to get into Brendan's pants? Why does he want to? Find out in chapter 7. Which is written, so if you all review I'll upload it really soon…**

**Oh, and do you want shorter chaps quicker or longer chaps that take more time? I keep cutting them in half to get them up!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed!  
**

**It was 3:1 in favour of longer chapters, so thought would do this one as is, then work on that. I will do my best, but may still go with hooks sometimes!**

Brendan let Ste work on the bar again that night. He was still bottom of the ladder, but he guessed he'd proven himself enough. Or, maybe, if what he'd guessed about Brendan was right, the older man just wanted to keep an eye on him.

The evening started out uneventful, though Ste could feel Brendan's eyes burning on him, and Ste waited for the arrival that he knew would push Brendan into action. He couldn't help but grin when he saw him walk casually over to the bar, which of course Noah took as a promising sign.

"Told you I'd be back," he said, with a grin to match Ste's.

"What can I get you?" Ste asked, and he felt his eyes slip onto Brendan, feeling good that Brendan's eyes me his instantly. He almost didn't hear Noah's order.

"So," Noah said as Ste served him, "what time do you finish tonight?"

"Er, not for a while," Ste replied, he didn't want to end up letting Noah think they were going to sleep together, just make it look right, "but I've got a break in a while."

He was pushing it. He hadn't had a break at all yesterday, but Jacqui had. Brendan couldn't object to it. Not without admitting why. Probably.

"Great!" said Noah, and Ste smiled, letting his eyes return to Brendan, who was now openly glaring.

"Er, I better get on with it, me" Ste said, nervously, "Collecting glasses and stuff, just so he don't think I'm slacking, like."

He slipped out from behind the bar, giving Noah his friendliest look, and strolled towards Brendan. He made careful eye contact.

"Brendan," he greeted cheerfully.

"Steven," Brendan replied, icily, "everything OK over there?" He nodded towards Noah, who was looking very pleased with himself as he leant against the bar.

"Oh, yeah!" Ste replied, "Noah's being really nice, actually."

"Is he now?" Brendan grumbled.

"Oh, yeah," Ste breezed, pretending not to notice the annoyance in the older man's voice, "he wants to chat during mi break. I said I'd meet him outside." Not exactly truth, but it had the effect Ste wanted.

"What?" Brendan growled.

"Yeah," Ste continued, happily, "said I'd take these down, get them sorted, and then he'd meet me outside. You know, I think we might get to be really good friends."

Ste was sure he could actually hear Brendan's teeth grounding together.

"So, I'll just get going then," he continued, smiling. He turned, collected a big pile of glasses and wandered back to the bar. Brendan didn't follow. Ste was almost disappointed except for the sure and certain knowledge that Brendan was still watching his every move.

He brushed past Noah when he got back to the bar, then smiled at him. "See you later," he said, and Noah looked like an excitable puppy, which gave Ste a twinge of guilt as he made his way down to the cellar, carefully balancing his big pile of washing up. Still, no one followed him, or stopped him, or even tried to talk to him. As he ran the water into the basin, he began wondering if he had made a mistake.

He listened hard for feet on the stairs. It would be hard to tell them apart from the noises on the floor above, hundreds of people walking around, but eventually he heard some. He turned to the sink, and wondered if it was possible to look alluring doing the washing up.

"Ste!" called a voice from the stairs, and Ste let out a disappointed sigh.

"Jacqui?" he asked.

"Is there any of that Russian stuff left?" she asked from where she stood halfway up the stairs.

"I dunno," Ste answered sulkily.

"Oh, well, don't help me out will ya? I only got you a job, not like you owe me or owt."

She was grumbling, and probably rightfully, but Ste was feeling increasingly disappointed. She didn't take long fetching whatever it was she was after, and as soon as she'd gone, Ste glanced around. The place was annoyingly quiet. He'd clearly misjudged Brendan. The gorgeous man did not care. Maybe Ste had made it all up in his head. He turned the tap off, sink still only half full. It wasn't time to do the washing up, yet. He'd had twice as much to do yesterday. He should just go back up and chat to Noah.

He trundled back up the stairs, head drooped in disappointment. He could have kicked himself. What had he expected? Brendan to decide he wanted him? Him, a scrawny, pathetic boy? Brendan didn't care what he did. And even that was one step better than it could have been. He'd seen men beaten black and blue for less than he'd done that evening. He passed the office, heading for the bar.

Hands grabbed his shoulders, mercilessly, pulling him backwards, into the office, where the door slammed behind him. He was spun around, and shoved against the wall, caught by the collar of his shirt.

"You think you're in charge here, boy?" Brendan growled in his face.

Ste shook his head, his heart pounding, tears beginning to prickle his eyes. He'd been so stupid. No one else was really as disgusting as him. They didn't have perverse, sexual thoughts about other men. Brendan was right to be disgusted. He was disgusting. He'd played with his family's food, and lost. He just had to hope he survived so he could find them some more.

He grabbed Brendan's hands and pushed them off of him, ready to run, but Brendan grabbed his wrists, pushing him back against the wall, and his hands above his head. Brendan stared at him a moment longer, face dark, unreadable.

"Stop looking so fucking scared," Brendan growled, "you started it!"

"Started wh…?" Ste began, but never finished. Brendan's lips were on his, joining them together, and tasting like alcohol and smoke and something intoxicating. Brendan's hands left his wrists, (Ste left his hands where they were) travelling instead to his face, and Ste tried to slip his tongue into Brendan's mouth.

Frustratingly, Brendan chose that moment to pull back, holding Ste's face back. "Still need me to say it?" he teased.

Ste shook his head again, though this time with a smile on his face, and put his hands into Brendan's hair. The kiss restarted. Brendan's hands roamed Ste's body, exploring its contours, and he groaned in appreciation. He pressed his own body against Ste's, hard, strong and incredible. Ste gasped at the feel.

Ste could barely believe what was happening. It was beautiful, wonderful. He let his hands drop to Brendan's wide shoulders. They were as impossibly perfect as they looked, like iron covered in velvet. His hands moved to the buttons of Brendan's shirt.

Brendan knocked them off, and stepped back. Ste frowned. Had he done something wrong? But Brendan's face was still one of lust, of dark, contained, excitement.

"Strip," he ordered.

Ste paled slightly at the order. He hated his body. It was skinny and weak. Girls before Amy had scorned him for it. But Brendan's expression was nothing like scorn. It was admiring, so Ste smiled shyly, and obeyed.

Brendan watched his every movement like Amy would watch a sunset. To feel so desired made Ste almost giddy. He dropped his clothes haphazardly on the floor, his shoes, his shirt, his trousers, and watched Brendan watching him. The moment he was down to nothing, Brendan sprang into action, removing his own clothes in moments, and pushing Ste back against the wall, pressing their bare bodies together.

Ste threw his arms around Brendan's neck and restarted the kiss once again, thinking only of how he could get nearer, closer. He never wanted this to end, and he dared to hope Brendan felt the same. It was a ridiculous way to feel; Brendan was violent, easily angered and obsessed with his own power, but just a few moments of very limited compassion and an incredible body had got into Ste's heart.

That was an overreaction. This was just about two bodies indulging in a sin they could no longer resist, giving into the temptation sent by the devil. Their tongues met, and Ste let Brendan rule, knowing Brendan would have it no other way, and knowing he himself didn't care. This was part of Brendan's attraction – his unforgiving dominance.

He felt Brendan's hands reach his arse and gasped. He had never got this far with a man. He barely knew what should happen next. Thankfully Brendan did.

He spun Ste around, pushing his chest against the door, and Ste was glad it was such a solid, thick sort of wood, hoping it wouldn't bang too much at its usage. He crossed his arms under his head to protect it from the solid wood, and allowed the thrill to overwhelm him as Brendan dropped to his knees.

Brendan seemed fascinated by his bottom. He stroked it, as if memorising every inch with his hands, then with his tongue. Suddenly that tongue had breached the most intimate part of Ste's body. Ste cried out. It was like an invasion, but one he could have begged for.

No more words were needed. Brendan stretched him and prepared him, and Ste bit his lips trying not to let out the desperate sounds he seemed unable to control. And that was only the beginning.

He felt Brendan stand behind him, pulling his hands up Ste's body, before resting them on top of Ste's. "You ready?" he whispered, voice breathless. Ste could only nod.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Ste lay breathless on the floor beside Brendan. It was like a tragedy that the moment was over, and Ste was almost ready to pray that it would happen again, until he remembered that God definitely wouldn't approve of a repeat. But he'd done it now. He was on his way to hell. He may as well enjoy the road,

He laid a hand on Brendan's warm chest. The older man did not push it away. He gave Ste another of his impenetrable looks. Ste wished he knew what the older man was thinking, at least if it was positive.

"I've gotta get back," muttered Brendan, "and you'll have a pile of glasses as big as you if you don't get a move on."

Ste nodded. It was true, but something more bothered him. "Will we get to do this again?" he asked.

Brendan smirked. He didn't answer. Instead, he leaned towards him, catching Ste's head with one hand, and steeling a deep and luxurious kiss. Ste took it as a yes.

Brendan jumped up too soon, and dressed, though clearly taking time to enjoy the sight of Ste doing the same. When they were both dressed, they kissed again, Brendan squeezing Ste's slightly sore bottom as he did so, then tidying both their hair and smoothing down his own moustache.

"Ready?" he said.

"Not really," Ste replied.

Brendan just gave him one last grin, and then opened the door to the outside world.

A short, fair haired man, with a self-assured, cunning face like a cat, stood silently in the door way. Ste had not heard him arrive, and, by Brendan's sudden stiffening, guessed the older man hadn't either.

Brendan recovered quickly.

"Danny," he greeted, "what can I do for you?"

**AN:** **Would love to hear what you guys think. so please take time to review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Soooo, slightly longer chapter. It just seemed the appropriate moment to start a new chapter. I hope you enjoy.**

**And if you are the nutter who goes around reading fanfiction of pairings you don't like, stop being a masochistic nutter, and thank you for taking me up to 69 reviews (totally keeping it), so that the lovely guest could take me up to 70! Love reviews 69 times out of 70!**

**Enjoy, and thanks for all you non nutters (and people who are nutters, but aren't mean or are reading because they enjoy it/owe me a favour) for reading!**

"So," said the man Brendan had called Danny, as casually as a man talking about the weather, "who's this?" He looked at Ste. His accent was southern, but a long way from posh.

"I'm Ste," said Ste.

"Member of staff," Brendan replied casually, and Ste didn't feel the need to contradict him.

Danny looked Ste up and down, face not giving any of his thoughts away. "You decided you already had enough pretty girls behind the bar, did you Brendan? Or is he replacing Warren? Don't fancy this little runt's chances."

Deciding it was better not to respond to the insult, Ste stood patiently waiting for Brendan's response. There was something about Danny that scared Ste more than Brendan's threats or Terry's love of violence had ever managed.

"Need someone to do the washing up," Brendan purred, carelessly. "You heard about Warren already?" The idea seemed to make him shifty.

"You know me, Brendan," replied Danny, seamlessly, "Got eyes everywhere, as they say." He gave Ste a very slightly amused look.

"Steven, I think I mentioned the washing up?" Brendan's voice was cold, his eyes glued to Danny. The moment they'd shared was well and truly over now.

"Yeah?" Ste replied, of course he'd noticed that.

"Well… get on it," Brendan ordered scornfully, all warmth gone. Ste may as well be a stranger.

"Right," said Ste, part grateful to escape Danny's cold, calculating look, and this newly distant Brendan, part unwilling to leave the man he was beginning to care for on his own with a man like Danny. He stepped away anyway, back towards the bar, hearing only Brendan's forced cheer as he said "Drink?" to Danny. They disappeared into the office together, leaving Ste to wonder if he'd just met the infamous Danny Houston Noah had mentioned. He made his way towards Noah to see if he knew.

Noah greeted him with a friendly, gap-toothed grin.

"Ready for your break then?" he asked cheerfully.

Ste looked at him puzzled for a moment before he remembered the hints he'd made and felt very guilty.

"Sorry," he lied, "Brendan won't let me."

"What?" groaned Noah, "I told you he was git!"

"He isn't!" Ste protested, disproportionally upset that anyone would talk that way about Brendan.

"Ste, how long have you been working tonight? You can't think he's being reasonable!"

Now Ste felt extra guilt at the idea of blaming Brendan, when truth was he hadn't even mentioned the possibility of a break with him, though he suspected that a shag in the office probably did count as one. He made up an excuse instead, "Well, it's only mi second day; I need to prove myself, don't I?"

Noah looked doubtful, but let it slip. "So…" he said, hopefully, "How about you and me meet after you've finished your shift?"

"Er… No, sorry," Ste replied, trying to sound disappointed rather than relieved to have an excuse, "I've got to get back to me kids, me. I hardly ever see 'em as it is."

Noah blinked. "Kids?"

Yeah," Ste replied, with a slight smile, "you know, little people that happen sometimes when you sleep with a woman?"

"You've got kids?" Noah gasped, a mixture of disbelief and disgust in his voice, both of which were quite offensive to Ste.

"Two," Ste replied coldly, "Leah and Lucas, and they're my pride and joy."

"Whatever," Noah replied, all friendliness gone, and Ste could not understand the attitude. He wasn't the first man to have kids. There were thousands running around the streets of Liverpool as far as he could see. "Does Brendan know you've got kids?" Noah asked, with no small amount of contempt.

"Course!" Ste replied, indignant that someone would suggest he'd lie about such an important thing.

"He hired you knowing you had kids?!" Noah exclaimed, shaking his head, "that man's a nutter!"

_That_ made Brendan a nutter? Noah should have seen him pin Ste to the sink. Or the door. Not a nutter; Brendan Brady was an animal, and Ste was not disappointed in that. "So I take it you're not looking for a new time to meet up then," said Ste, sarcastically.

"You're alright, ta," Noah replied with no shame, and wandered off. Ste didn't bother checking where he went; he was just too pissed off. He forgot that he'd wanted an answer to his new questions about Danny, and even that he had not wanted to start getting closer to Noah, anyway. He had never been able to handle anything that seemed to disrespect his kids, and Noah had reacted like children were a disease.

He went back to collecting glasses, and when he had an armful, he took them all down to the sink, craning to hear any titbits that might escape through the office door. He caught nothing but a light rumble of male voices. No words that he could make out, and soon he had to give up and get some washing up done.

After about thirty cups washed in boredom, he started to sing as he washed. It made the cellar seem less empty. There was lots of noise, a mass of movement from the floor above him, but it still felt lonely in the cellar. He let his voice rise. It couldn't be loud enough to be heard upstairs, and it made the time pass quicker. He had quite a pile on the completed side of the sink when someone interrupted the song.

"Don't give up your day job, will ya?"

Ste nearly dropped the glass he was holding. "Bloody hell!" he cried.

"Did I frighten ya?" Danny asked from a few metres behind him, no sign of either amusement or apology in his voice.

"No," Ste lied. He had no clue how Danny had managed to get down the stairs without him noticing.

"So," Danny said, obviously not caring about Ste's embarrassment, "how long you been working here?"

"It's only mi second day," Ste replied honestly, "where's Brendan?"

He wasn't sure if asking that would suggest anything about what Danny may have overheard or not, but there was something about Danny's cold, expressionless gaze that made Ste need to know.

"Does it matter?" Danny asked.

"Er… no?" Ste replied, uncertainly.

"He's supposed to tell me when he hires new staff," said Danny, watching him carefully.

"Why?" Ste asked.

"Didn't Brendan tell you?" Danny replied, confidently, "I own half this place."

"Oh," Ste replied. It seemed to be all he could say.

"So, I'm your boss," Danny confirmed, unnecessarily.

"Right," said Ste, and added "boss," for good measure. His stomach twisted nervously.

"So when I say jump, you do it," Danny said, voice still expressionless. "Got it?"

Maybe it was a joke, but Ste still said, "Yes sir," and hoped Danny wouldn't test that theory right now.

Danny took a few steps forward, "And when I ask you something, you give me an honest answer. Is that understood?"

"Course," Ste said, turning back to the washing up in the hope that, should he need to lie, Danny wouldn't see it in his face.

"Good," Danny intoned, "so maybe you can start with the truth of what happened with Warren?"

Ste was surprised. The sex with Brendan had seemed so life changing that he'd almost forgotten what had happened before it.

"Er…" he said.

"Now, don't be shy, Ste," Danny said, though without the kindness the words suggested, "I just want to know the truth. If Warren was a wrong 'un, I don't want him working for me, do I?"

"Er… no?" Ste replied.

"No," Danny confirmed, though Ste was still unsure if that was true, "so, who found him?"

"I did…" Ste replied shakily.

"Right," said Danny, "And it was you who decided to go to the police?"

"No," Ste replied, still uncertainly. He did not want the blame for this, but was not sure what Danny would see as blameworthy.

"So, what did you do, then?" Danny asked, giving no hint to what the answer he wanted was.

"Er… I came to find Brendan?" Ste answered, truthfully, for some reason making it sound like a question, even though it was the truth.

"And he got the police involved?" Now Danny's face twitched. Ste continued with the truth. It was probably best.

"No, Cheryl overheard and… and she did." Ste decided to shut up. He wasn't sure who had first mentioned the police, couldn't really remember, and that seemed to be the thing that concerned Danny the most.

"Right," said Danny, "and do you think, Ste, that Warren was really stupid enough to leave thousands of pounds worth of stolen property beside his bedside?"

"Er…" Ste said.

"Remember what I said about honesty, Ste," Danny prompted. "Who really put it there?"

Ste's eyes darted up the stairs. He had no clue what Brendan had said, and no clue what the answer he should give was. That look by itself seemed to be enough information for Danny.

"I thought so," he muttered, putting two and two together quickly enough.

"No," Ste lied quickly, "I mean… I don't know, but …"

Brendan's footsteps arrived on the stairs. They were slow, as if he knew what to expect. When he saw Ste and Danny talking, he folded his arms, no surprise showing.

"You know, I thought you'd know your way around by now, Danny," he said, "You said you were going to the Greek room."

"Brendan," greeted Danny, ignoring the accusation in Brendan's words, "We've been having a chat, your boy and I."

Brendan turned his steady gaze to Ste. "Have you now?"

"And amazingly, his story is quite similar to yours."

"Course it is," Brendan replied, "That would be because it's the truth, Daniel."

"Except," Danny continued, putting his hands casually in his pockets, "for one little detail."

Brendan's moustache ticked. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, I wonder how many of your clientele would be interested to hear all about that?"

Brendan snorted. "About what, Danny? My sister we to the police over a waste of space like Warren because he cheated on her? You telling me you'd have done something to stop it?"

Danny smirked. "About the way you set up your own man? I think they would, yeah. Your own staff, behind bars. Tut tut, Brendan."

Brendan cleared his throat but didn't answer.

"You know what?" Danny said, "I've got some important things going down. Lots of money, and no need for the police. Now, I need a base. You're going to be playing host."

"Danny," Brendan interrupted, "if you want to use the Greek room, you only have to ask."

"And," Danny continued, "you will be looking after some very sensitive situations for me."

The silence was palpable for a moment. Ste couldn't be sure, but he thought Danny blackmailing Brendan would have far worse repercussions than his own efforts to do the same.

After a few moments of tension, Brendan tutted and said "Whatever Danny."

Danny took a step towards Brendan and looked deep into his eyes. "And your new lover boy will be serving us tomorrow night."

Ste felt a flash of panic and disbelief. Brendan snorted, looked at the floor angrily and then laughed. It was hard, forced. Then he looked at Danny without an ounce of humour in his eyes. "What the fuck are you talking about now, Danny?"

Danny nearly smiled, but the only emotion Ste could see in his face was satisfaction. "Him," he said pointing at Ste, "and don't play dumb, it doesn't suit ya. I've got a friend, needs entertaining. He'll be better at it than that idiot Jacqui married. Just make sure he keeps his mouth shut, yeah?"

Neither Ste nor Brendan responded. Danny smirked. "Send Jacqui up when you're done, yeah?" He turned and walked back up the stairs, not sparing them a second glance.

The sounds of the party upstairs seemed a million miles away to Ste. He'd let Brendan down, and badly. He shivered. "Sorry," he said, without prompt.

Brendan didn't look at him. "What for?" he asked quietly.

"You know…" said Ste, "letting him find out…"

"He already knew," Brendan interrupted, still not looking at Ste, still concentrating on something else, a spot in the space before him, "He's just playing mind games with me. All that stuff about not letting the police in on whatever the fuck he's up to, but how did he find out about Warren so quick, eh?"

"Er…" said Ste, "I don't know?"

"He's got one of them in his pocket, Steven, that's how." His voice was anxious and frustrated.

"Oh," Ste replied, and only spent a moment imagining a small policeman trying to fit into Danny's pocket. It was too serious for that. And there were other things to worry about.

"Brendan?" he said cautiously.

"Yep," Brendan replied, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

Ste swallowed before he asked "What did he mean… entertain?"

Brendan turned his face back to him, a mixture of sadness and annoyance in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "just, you know, be nice to his friend."

"Er… how nice?" asked Ste.

Brendan turned to face him fully. "What, you think I got prostitutes working here, Steven?"

"I… no…"

"You think I'm some sort of pimp, do ye?"

"I don't know!" Ste cried, freaked out. He moved away from Brendan, he needed to escape, to get away from all this mess he didn't understand.

"Hey, hey, hey, stop!" Brendan called after him, and caught him, pulling him tight to his body in an embrace. It was warm, and comfortable, and Ste felt his panic ebbing away, even though he knew safe was the wrong way to think about Brendan Brady. He couldn't seem to help it. "It's OK; he's just trying to get at me. He wants me to react."

"I don't understand," Ste told Brendan's shirt.

"He wants me to say no, that his mate's not going near you. He's trying to find leverage. This Warren stuff's a load of crap, and he knows it, but he thinks he can use you."

"Oh," Ste felt slightly calmer. Of course Danny couldn't use Ste to get to Brendan. They'd shagged once in an office. "Well, that's stupid, isn't it?"

"Course," Brendan replied, but held on, "course," he repeated.

Ste felt a hand stroke his hair, another way to calm him, he assumed. Brendan pulled back slightly, as if checking he was OK, stared into his eyes and stroked his face. Then he brought their lips together.

This kiss could not have been more different to their earlier one. It was gentle, still needy, but gentle. It was an extension of the hug, designed to make Ste feel safe and protected. It worked. Ste freed his own arms and wrapped them around Brendan's waist. He felt Brendan's mouth smile against his own, and pull back slightly, just far enough that he could speak, though near enough to feel each other's breath in their mouths.

"Are you alright now?" Brendan asked, quietly enough that only Ste could possibly hear, "Because they'll have to drink out of their shoes up there in a minute."

Ste snorted, "I'll take this lot up."

"Good lad," Brendan replied. He pecked him once more on the lips, and Ste smiled at him. Then Brendan had disappeared up the stairs. Ste took another moment to make sure he was calm, then took the crate of glasses back up the stairs to the bar.

**Thanks for reading, ****Today is my birthday, so **please take the time to review! x


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Was gonna pile on the angst in this chap, but then read spoilers and I just couldn't handle it. So thought I'd alter it. Just a bit.**

**Enjoy, and thanks for the reviews. I'll have a few more of them please! x**

Ste breathed deeply before he entered his family home. He didn't want to bring any of that stuff into their world. None of it. No thoughts of Warren, Brendan or Danny should disturb these people he loved.

He opened the door. Amy was sat by the dying fire, a grouchy looking Lucas beginning to fall asleep in her lap. Ste's arrival seemed to jolt the little boy awake. And he was very grouchy.

Lucas cried. Loudly.

Amy groaned. "All day he's been like this!" she said. She held the boy against her body, patting his back gently and lovingly, "How was work?" she asked.

'Shagged the boss, put a co-worker in prison and got told that tomorrow I'll be entertaining some unknown bloke, and I still have no clue what it means,' Ste thought. Aloud he said "Oh, fine." He came forward and took the little boy into his own arms. Amy looked ready to collapse from exhaustion. "Why don't you get some sleep? I'll get this one to bed."

"No, I couldn't do that!" Amy exclaimed, "you've been working all day! I can't expect you to look after the kids, too! You need to sleep!"

Typical Amy, trying to look after everyone, even Ste who didn't deserve it. "It's alright," Ste told her quietly, "I want to. I've barely seen either of them these few days. And this little guy is my precious boy, aren't you Lucas?"

Lucas wasn't inclined to comment.

"But…" Amy protested.

"Go to bed," Ste interrupted. "Is our Leah alright?"

"She's fine," Amy replied, tiredly, "_she_ went down like an angel."

"Well, that's because she's a goody two-shoes, isn't she Lucas?" Ste cooed to his son, "Me and Lucas are bad boys, aren't we? And that's why you love us!"

Amy snorted a laugh. Lucas carried on crying. "I'll leave you to your man time then." Amy teased, and went off to check on Leah. Ste took her place in the chair by the fire and rocked his son backwards and forwards.

"And what's the matter with you, little man?" he asked the grizzling little boy, whose sobs were beginning to subside from the motions.

"Tummy," Lucas mumbled.

"Tummy ache?" Ste said sympathetically, rubbing the boys belly gently. Lucas nodded snottily against his shirt and gave a few week coughs. "Well, Mummy thinks you can be a big, strong, brave boy," Ste cooed, "Do you think you can?"

Lucas nodded again.

"I knew it!" Ste replied, softly, "one more cuddle and then bed, yeah?" he suggested.

Lucas nodded again, and then coughed some more onto Ste's shirt. Ste didn't care. He could cope with anything the kids wanted to throw at him so long as they were alright. Ste pulled him close and Lucas wrapped his little arms around Ste's neck.

He took the boy to bed, putting him in between Amy and himself so the boy could easily wake either of them in the night.

He slept badly. Lucas was snotty beside him, literally, breathing loudly, and waking regularly, and Ste knew that Amy would be awake and worried about the boy too. And even when he got the odd moment knowing the others were asleep, he couldn't clear his mind. Danny's emotionless expression swam across his mind's eye

He was eventually woken by Leah poking him on the nose.

"Mummy said you want to wake up, but she thought I'd be better at it than she is," Leah said, smiling happily. It was probably true; Ste wouldn't grumble at Leah anywhere near as much as he would have at Amy.

"Well she's almost as clever as you, then," he said, yawning.

Leah looked very proud of herself and promised to bring him some breakfast. Lucas sniffled beside him.

"Hey, little man," he said to his youngest child, "how are you feeling?"

Lucas sniffled again.

"Ah, poor Lucas," Ste cooed, "tell you what, if you're really good for Mummy today, I'll bring you home a really nice treat, yeah?"

Lucas looked at him hopefully.

"Do you think you can be a good boy for Mummy?" he asked.

Lucas nodded, a smile playing around the edges of his sniffling face.

"Good boy," Ste cooed, getting out of bed and dressing. Leah brought him some breakfast over and Ste kissed her on her head, "aren't I lucky to have such great children, eh?" he said.

He couldn't stay there though, as much as he wanted to. Spending time with the kids was like living in a paradise, until it got to time to feed them. It was his duty to make sure they could feed them. And work wasn't all bad. At work he would see Brendan.

He grabbed a mouthful of breakfast and kissed everyone goodbye, before trotting out of the door. The streets were dotted with people milling about, off to work, some kids off to school. He hadn't gone far, though, before he remembered Danny's orders.

What on earth did 'entertain' mean to a man like Danny Houston? That conjured up nightmares as varied as prostitution (even if Brendan had denied it, he wasn't in charge of Danny, anyone could see that,) to singing in public. Both awful in very different ways.

The cellar was empty of people. There were very few bits of washing up as Ste had done so much last night, trying to block out the idea of Danny's threats. He lifted a crate to take up to the downstairs bar.

Jacqui suddenly stormed down the stairs, tutting to herself, and muttered "bastard."

"Morning to you too," Ste greeted.

Jacqui ignored the greeting, "That bastard," she repeated.

"Who?" asked Ste.

"Who d'you think?" she cried, "the tight one up there." She pointed up the stairs.

Ste glanced up to where she'd pointed. There was only one male person who might be up there now Warren was gone. "Brendan?" he asked.

"Yeah, Mr I'll-get my sister a bloody diamond, but won't even lend us a few bob for shoes."

"Shoes?" Ste repeated, mostly because he knew Jacqui wanted to keep ranting.

"Yeah, have you seen the state of these?" she cried, pointing at her own.

"No, I…"

"Worn through," she interrupted, too lost in her own rant to actually listen to his input, "but he…" she pointed upstairs again, "not a penny before pay day. Cheep bastard."

"Right…" Ste replied, trying not to comment either way.

"Steven?" called a gruff voice from upstairs.

Ste looked at Jacqui apologetically, "I better, er…" he pointed upwards, then trotted up the stairs, taking the crate with him. "Alright?" he greeted Brendan as he put the crate down on the bar.

Brendan was watching him in that indecipherable way again, though with the new hint of that expression from yesterday: one of slight concern.

"Come 'ere," the Irishman said, casually. Ste did as instructed, without comment, and stood carefully in front of the taller man. Their eyes met: Ste could get lost in those eyes. They were a beautiful shade of pale blue, with a sadness that could break hearts, like there was more going on in this man's mind than Ste could possibly imagine.

"Mornin'" Ste said.

"Morning," Brendan replied.

Then suddenly he turned, disappearing out of the bar. Ste frowned, uncertain, until Brendan's voice reached him.

"You coming?"

Ste smiled slightly, and followed.

"Where we goin'?" he asked Brendan's fast moving back.

Brendan didn't respond, but didn't pause at the first floor. Instead he took the extra stairs that Cheryl had pointed out on that first night.

The Greek room. That was what Brendan had called it, though Ste wasn't sure why it was called that. He had never seen anything like it. Cushions and soft chairs lined the room, in small groups and a large circle at one end. There was a bar against one wall, and the other three were painted with images of beautiful men and women, not posing, but clearly in the middle of actions, some dancing, some hunting, some holding strange things Ste had never seen.

Ste wasn't sure if he loved it or hated it.

Brendan was watching him. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I don't know," Ste replied honestly, "who are the pictures of?"

Brendan smirked, "Lots of different people."

Did that mean he wasn't going to say? "Right…" Ste said, uncertainly.

Brendan snorted, then put a hand on Ste's shoulder, guiding him to one of the walls. "There's too many to tell you all, but this one…." He indicated a couple – a man with dark features holding a beautiful woman who held some sort of red fruit that Ste didn't recognise. "That's Hades. He was the Greek God of the underworld, ruling the dead and everything below the ground. He fell in love with Persephone, daughter of the Goddess of crops and harvest, and abducted her. Her mother went mad with worry, and refused to let any crops grow while her daughter was away, so the King of the Gods demanded Hades return Persephone to her mother. But Hade had given her a pomegranate seed to eat while she was in his underground kingdom, and if you have eaten anything in the land of the dead, in the land of the dead you must stay. And so Persephone had to spend half of every year with him. Forever."

Ste had never heard the story before, and wasn't sure he understood it. "Well that's a weird story," he said. "Why do you like that one particularly?"

Brendan stared at the picture. "Well, it's got everything, hasn't it? Love, kidnap, Kings…"

"Right…" Ste said, not really seeing it.

"And the story's all about him kidnapping her, taking her, and having to let her go, but her not being able to. He's the villain. He was dark, and dangerous, but she wanted him anyway."

"Did she? But you didn't say that in the story…"

"Steven," Brendan hissed, "she ate the pomegranate. She wanted to stay."

"Oh," Ste replied. Brendan was probably right about the girl in the story, but he still wasn't sure why that was so appealing to Brendan. Or what a pomegranate was. He risked Brendan's laughter. "What's a…"

He didn't get to finish the question. Brendan had taken the moment of silence between them to lean forward, to place his lips against Ste's. Pomegranates, whatever they were, left Ste's mind completely.

He let Brendan guide his body downwards, never breaking the kiss. He felt a cushion behind his feet and allowed himself to be guided down until he lay upon it. He pulled his head back to ask one question. "Won't people see?"

"No one ever comes up here without my permission," Brendan breathed, gently, and kissed him again, taking Ste's hands and pushing them up above his head. When he had Ste in that position, he pulled away himself to look at him.

Ste wished he wouldn't. This moment wasn't better than the one they'd shared the previous night; it was just completely different, and Ste felt flooded with warmth and an excited sort of tension, though couldn't help but wonder what on earth was going through Brendan's mind that meant he could just stop at that moment.

"Do you want me to let you go, Steven?" Brendan asked gruffly.

Ste almost laughed. That was the last thing he wanted. He needed Brendan's hands on him, anywhere on him. He needed Brendan's breath against his face, and their tongues to slide against each other's, and for Brendan to fill him so gloriously like he had last night.

He shook his head. It was the most coherent way he could communicate at that moment. Brendan half smiled, transferred Ste's hands to one of his own, and with the other slid his hand down Ste's body, caressing his arms, his shoulders, his stomach. Ste gasped when the hand reached his pelvis, and Brendan silenced him with another kiss.

If his mind hadn't been so filled with the fluffy sense of pleasure, Ste may have questioned Brendan's need for such control. Ste couldn't make himself care. He'd barely known the man 2 days and he was happily giving his body and soul. He himself had never experienced such a need for anyone as he did for Brendan, and he had no problem with letting the older man take charge. He didn't think he could have brought out the sensations in Brendan that Brendan did in him. Let alone opened his trousers with one hand.

There was no time to appreciate that skill when Brendan's hands found his cock. He didn't remember getting so hard; there didn't seem to have been enough time, and Brendan's hand's gentle caress was pure pleasure to him. He groaned into Brendan's mouth, feeling the tension within him build, and almost begged Brendan to stop. He didn't want it to just be this. He needed Brendan within him.

Brendan let go of his hands, pulling away from the kiss, and used both his own hands to pull Ste's trousers right down, pulling his shoes off on the way. Ste reached down to help, but Brendan pushed his hands back up above his head. It was an instruction, for Ste to be patient, to submit.

Brendan really didn't know Ste very well yet.

With Ste's trousers removed, Brendan pushed the younger man's legs open, and settled in between, bringing his own manhood out, and lining up ready. Ste stared into his face, the beautiful sad eyes, the masculine expression, the dark hair of his moustache and the early stubble on his chin and cheeks. He let Brendan enter him, making sure it was too late for him to choose to stop their activities, that he was too far gone, that he could feel Ste around him, and took Brendan's face in his hands. He wrapped his legs around Brendan's and initiated another kiss.

Brendan may be his boss, but he wasn't in control here and now. And, with them both losing their breaths and gripping each other, Brendan didn't seem to care.

**AN: Love to hear what you think, so please review! x**


	10. Chapter 10

**OK, so I was spoilt with reviews for chapter 8, but was sad to get such little response to c,hapter 9. So now am piling on the angst with the next two chapters. Well mostly the next chapter actually. This one is hardly angsty at all.**

**Next time you'll cry. **

**Well, maybe not cry. Feel bad for them. Maybe. I did.**

**Enjoy!**

The spell from their time alone fell far too quickly from Ste and Brendan's bodies. They were dressing and tidying themselves far too soon, and it felt like no time at all before Ste was stocking the bar, missing the feel of Brendan against him. Brendan himself went to fetch Jacqui to help him, and Ste barely had his breath back when Danny's friends started to arrive it drips and drabs.

They did not look like the sort of people Ste wanted to spend lots of time with. Some were big and muscular, the type that could crush a man like Ste with a thumb and finger, some were scarred, threat carved into every line of their faces, and some were mean looking men who reminded Ste of Terry.

And they all loved Jacqui. She smiled at them, often coldly, laughed at their jokes and showed them to their seats. They aimed pinches at her bottom, and she gave them short shrift, which they loved. Ste hid behind the bar, serving drinks. No one seemed to be paying him any attention, and Ste was not going to complain about that.

Brendan appeared calm, keeping a steady eye on proceedings, and Danny was one of the last to arrive. As he entered the room, he swept it with his eyes, clocking the distance Brendan had put between himself and Ste, and probably a hundred other things that were of potential use to him. Ste hoped Brendan was trying to look disinterested in him so Danny would think there really was nothing between them, and tried to pretend not to take it personally.

Brendan was pretty good at looking disinterested.

He greeted Danny coldly, and led him to a seat. Danny's immediate party followed and sat with him. Ste saw Brendan glance his way, and though it was only the smallest of glances, Danny took less than a second to follow the gaze. Ste thought he saw a tiny shadow of a smirk. Danny didn't show emotion, but he somehow managed to look pleased with himself.

The very last to arrive looked nothing like the rest. He arrived alone, dressed smartly in dark colours, seeming keen to hide his face as he walked in. He wore a long coat over his stocky frame, a bowler hat on his head, and Ste would have guessed him as some sort of businessman, maybe the owner of a mill or something. He was jittery, one hand tapping against his thigh, the other holding his coat closed over his body. He seemed to calm a little when he saw Danny, removing his hat and handing it to Jacqui without giving her the smallest of glances. Jacqui took them looking surprised and slightly affronted by his complete lack of interest – it was clearly unusual for her.

"Alexander!" greeted Danny, with every impression of enthusiasm, holding out a hand for him to shake, and every pair of eyes in the room sprung to view their conversation. Alexander's return was cold.

"Daniel," he said, "You can address me as Sir Alexander." He didn't take Danny's hand.

Danny didn't answer straight away, putting his hand calmly in his pocket, and Ste wondered if he had taken that as an affront. He seemed to decide not to even address that right now, "Please, won't you take a seat. What would you like to drink? Steven!"

Ste took a moment to realise that he was the Steven Danny had just been calling for. He stumbled forward, through a small crowd of Danny's men. He wasn't sure what to say, and somehow managed to stay silent.

Sir Alexander looked Ste up and down, face getting less worried, body more sure of itself. "Wine. Red" he said, simply, "then you come sit beside me."

"Er…" Ste said, unsure if he should do such a thing as sit with them. He was there to serve drinks.

"Are you hard of hearing, Steven?" Danny said harshly, before Ste could say anything stupid. "Fetch Sir Alexander some wine, and then take your seat."

Ste nodded, and almost ran to comply, hardly noticing the jeering looks of the men around him, and avoiding Brendan's gaze. He heard Danny's quiet laugh behind him. "Well, we didn't bring him along for his brains, did we?" the blond man said with amusement.

Sir Alexander only grunted in response, and Ste felt curious eyes on him as he poured wine with shaking hands. Brendan made no move to help or support, instead he just leaned against the wall, his sharp sad eyes trained on Danny. Ste guessed there was no reason for him to intervene. It was just a drink and a sit down. There were worse ways to make money.

He brought the wine over and tried to smile at Sir Alexander. The man grunted at him, taking the wine and sipping it slowly. He nodded once, though Ste wasn't sure why he was nodding, as he had already sat down in the empty chair beside him.

"Talk," Sir Alexander ordered, and Ste looked at him in panic for a moment. What was he supposed to say? But Sir Alexander was no longer looking at Ste. Instead he was looking at Danny, who, apart from looking a little annoyed to be ordered to do anything, had no problem with following the command.

Ste didn't really follow it. There was a lot about ships and times of arrival, and getting things in without fuss. He didn't ask what 'things' were or where they wanted to get them 'in' to. It sounded like it was incredibly illegal, and Sir Alexander did not sound happy about it. He questioned every detail, he fidgeted, complained that he did not like most of the things Danny said. Danny hid his irritation less well than he hid every other emotion he had. After a while, it got the better of him.

"Fuck off," he said suddenly to the people around him. "You too," he said to the others. Ste stood, wanting to follow the instruction and go with the other men, but Sir Alexander caught his hand, pulling him back down. He didn't say a word to explain that action. Ste found himself on his own with Danny and Sir Alexander. Danny glared at him, then decided to ignore him.

"I don't think you understand what's going on right now, Alex," Danny said calmly.

"You think so?" Sir Alexander replied.

"This is your only chance, Alex," Danny continued, clearly finding Sir Alexander's response irrelevant, "your one opportunity to keep it all. If I turned away from you now, can you imagine what would happen?"

"Don't pretend this is one way, Danny," Sir Alexander replied, "you cannot succeed without me."

"I can pull out," Danny growled, "and then I'll have no reason to stay quiet."

"After all of this?" Sir Alexander replied, "I think not. You may have me at my weakest, but I am not in your pocket. This is all that's going to happen. If you even think of coming to me with any other 'ideas' of yours, you'll be hanging by the neck before you can say gibbet. You got that, Danny?"

Danny leant back in his chair, face sour for a moment. Ste decided to look anywhere else. He had no idea why Sir Alexander had kept him there, and he did not want to be part of a show down that could end in death. After a few seconds of intense looks of hatred between the two older men, Danny laughed.

"All this hostility!" he cried, "we're both on the same side! We want a smooth business transaction, that's all."

Sir Alexander grunted, "This is not how I conduct business."

"It is now," Danny contradicted. He smirked suddenly in Ste's direction. "Give my love to the wife, won't ya, Sir Alexander," he said, conversationally, then he got up and went to join the other men, who were now circling Jacqui who was trying hard to keep up with their orders.

Sir Alexander carefully stroked his hair, checking it was smooth, not out of place. His breathing was irregular, sharp, and his face filled with tension, letting Ste know he was not happy.

"Er… shall I get you a drink?" Ste asked.

Sir Alexander breathed out, "No," he replied, "is there somewhere we can be alone?"

Ste's eyes widened, "Er, I don't think so," he said, hoping he was right. Alone would be bad.

"Not for… " Sir Alexander started, irritably, but calmed himself immediately, "I just want someone to talk to."

"Oh," Ste replied, "Er, I don't think anyone's listening, so, we could probably talk here." He had no desire to be any further from Brendan than he needed to be.

Sir Alexander looked around, and grunted in agreement. Danny and his men seemed too interested in Jacqui and another girl that had just shown up. No one was paying him and Ste any attention. Sir Alexander seemed to accept this, and put one hand on Ste's leg.

"Er…" Ste said, staring at the hand, willing it not to move anywhere unless it was away, "what did you want to talk about?"

"Do you trust Danny?" Sir Alexander asked.

"Er… he's mi boss, so…" Ste hoped that answered the question.

"So, no further than you could throw him, then," Sir Alex concluded with a wry smile. "I remember my first boss. Sir William Tenby. Eighty five years old, and still counting every penny. No children to pass it on to, I think he just wanted to take it with him. I wasn't there long, of course; my father just wanted me to learn about business from the best. And Sir William was the best," he grinned to himself, "We used to move the things on his desk around to see if he'd notice."

Ste smiled, not because the story was funny, or even nice, it just felt like Sir Alex was behaving like a human. Ste had never met a Sir anything before, but if they were all like Sir Alex they couldn't be all bad.

"I only started here the day before yesterday," Ste admitted, "but no one's been unkind or anything."

Sir Alex smiled, "So maybe Mr Houston is not completely villainous."

Ste didn't want to answer that. "How did you get mixed up with him, though?" he asked instead. He couldn't imagine a man like Danny did much business with men like Sir Alexander.

"A boring mixture of debts and blackmail. Yourself?"

"Mouths to feed," Ste said simply.

Sir Alexander looked at him appraisingly, "Whose?"

"Mine," Ste replied, then hesitantly, "my kids."

"You have children?" Sir Alexander said with surprise.

Ste nodded, wondering if he was going to get a similar response not to the one he got from Noah. He wondered what that would do to Danny's plans.

Sir Alexander laughed. "You don't look old enough to have children."

"I've got two," Ste replied, not sure whether to be offended or not.

Sir Alexander nodded. "Two children. That's good; you not being a kid. Makes me feel less guilty for the thoughts I'm having."

His hand moved up Ste's thigh. Ste caught it.

"Look, you're really nice and everything, but I ain't a prostitute." He tried to keep his voice down. He didn't want to embarrass Sir Alexander.

Sir Alexander's hand stopped, but didn't move away. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Danny ordered me to. He's my boss, right, so…" he glanced in Brendan's direction, and was pleased to see Brendan's eyes glued upon them. "I'm sorry, you seem really nice, it's just, I'm not…" Not what? He couldn't finish the sentence without repeating himself, "I'm not a prostitute."

Sir Alexander's hand tightened on his thigh, and for a moment Ste expected anger, maybe a punch, maybe worse. He looked back at Brendan and was pleased to see him start to walk towards them, expression intense. Ste had a brief panic that Brendan would only order him to do as he was told, but it came to nothing. Sir Alexander removed his hands.

"I guess I can't be angry," he said thoughtfully, as Brendan made the movement swiftly appear to have the purpose of checking on another drinker, who he patted good naturedly on the back, while still watching Ste and Sir Alexander over the man's shoulder. "It's not like you led me on or anything."

"I really didn't mean to," Ste said quietly, "I can get you another drink if you want."

"No, that's fine," Sir Alexander replied, with a sad smile, "I need to finish up with Danny anyway." He got to his feet and Ste did the same.

Ste nodded. "I am sorry," he repeated.

He looked at Ste appreciatively. "Look, if you ever change your mind…" he dug a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a small piece of card, "that's the address of my office."

Ste took it, though he was pretty certain he wouldn't be changing his mind any time soon. "Ta," he said.

Sir Alexander used his newly free hand to stroke Ste's face gently. "You are very pretty," he said, almost to himself, "there's not many with a face like yours."

"Er, thanks?" Ste said uncertainly.

Sir Alexander smiled. "Look after that card," he added, then planted a kiss on Ste's surprised lips.

Ste did his best not to flinch away; he didn't want to upset Sir Alexander, who hadn't really done anything wrong, but he could feel Brendan's burning gaze upon him, and the scorn of a number of Danny's followers at the sight of two men kissing. It wasn't a long kiss, or very deep. Instead it was a token, the suggestion that this was something Sir Alexander would like to have more of. The moment Sir Alexander pulled away, Ste muttered 'Bye' and escaped behind the bar.

Alexander didn't stay for long after that. He trundled over to Danny and the pair engaged in some speedy back and forth, presumably finalising details of the upcoming whatever they had planned. Sir Alex left shortly afterwards, with very little fuss. About two seconds later, Brendan was behind Ste, too close, growling in his ear.

"Downstairs. Washing up."

Ste hoped he wasn't angry. It was hard to tell with Brendan, his expression nearly always seemed this intense. But he was happy to get out of this company. He nodded and nearly sprinted down the stairs.

He felt considerably more relaxed down in the cellar, with no jeers, no unwanted hands on him, no Danny making him feel uneasy. He could fill up the sink, and listen to the sounds of the normal people in the bar above him, and not panic or worry about what else might be going on.

Brendan arrived just as he was turning the taps off ready to start washing. The water was hot enough to steam into the air between them, making everything seem warm and misty.

"You alright?" Brendan asked from the doorway.

"I'm fine," Ste replied, "are… are you?"

"I'm Brendan Brady," Brendan replied, as though that were answer enough. "So, did you have fun with the fat snob?"

Ste scowled; that was unfair. "He was alright."

"Alright?" Brendan retorted. "Did you want to let him fuck you?"

"You what?" Ste replied, angry at the suggestion.

"Did you like it when he kissed you?"

"Course not!" Ste cried, "are you jealous?"

"Jealous?" Brendan snorted, though there was something in his voice that betrayed his confidence. Ste almost smiled. This was jealousy. "Jealous of some out of shape posh git!"

"He was quite nice actually," Ste contradicted, "he tried it on more than that, you know." He started on the washing up, putting the cups into the warm water.

Brendan stepped nearer.

"Tempted were ya?"

Ste looked at him through his eyelashes. "What do you think?"

Brendan narrowed his eyes. "Well, I'd hope _I_ would be more tempting than a chubby aristocrat."

Ste bit his bottom lip. "Prove it," he challenged.

Brendan glanced back up the stairs, then grasped Ste's wrist, turning him around and pushing him against the sink. He put one hand behind Ste's head, letting go of his wrist, and used his other arm to hold Ste to him. When he brought their lips together, Ste couldn't help thinking that this was a real kiss was like. The sweet nothings he'd shared with Amy were mere pecks compared to this, and his moment with Sir Alexander completely left his mind. Brendan's tongue drove into his mouth, exploring, warring with his own. Ste wrapped his arms around Brendan's shoulders, clinging on for dear life, desperate for it to deepen, to yet again feel Brendan's whole body yearn for him.

Suddenly Brendan pulled away, a smirk playing about his mouth. Ste's mouth tried to follow him, almost unbalancing him. He hadn't expected the kiss to end so quickly. It had felt like it could go on forever. He had wanted it to.

"I think I made my point," Brendan muttered quietly. He spun on his heels, and walked out. "Enjoy the washing up," he added, teasingly, and Ste felt like running after him, forcing him to finish what he started. He was stupidly aroused. One kiss had him dribbling and weak at the knees.

He shook his head at himself. This was stupid behaviour. He had work to do.

But work was much less boring with images of Brendan in his head.

**AN: I love to hear what you think, so please take time to review! **

**Thanks for reading! x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hate it when reviewers figure out the next thing in the story… sorry (won't tell you who, so you may still get a little surprise.) Trying to figure out a way round it, but don't think the rest will work if I do.**

**Warning: There may be some (significant) angst. Well, they're not breaking our hearts on the show 'til Monday at the earliest. I might update before then...**

Ste was almost sad to leave work that night. He wanted to see Brendan, to get another kiss, or maybe even more, but as he was leaving, too many people were about. Ste had to make do with a shared look of promise. It was late when he got home, and this time everyone was in bed. Lucas was next to Amy again, so Ste carefully got in beside them. Lucas was asleep, though his body felt as hot as fire beside him. He pushed down his panic and felt Amy's hand reach for his over Lucas's small frame.

Another sleepless night followed. Ste could tell Amy had it as bad as he did, and though he tried to stay in bed for as long as he could, he found himself wide awake as the first trickle of sunlight stole into the bedroom.

Amy was up before even then.

His little boy was still asleep beside him, face pale. Ste's heart froze at the sight. He almost fell apart just looking at him, but he noticed the shallow breathing. There was still hope, but they needed help.

He threw some clothes on and darted to Amy.

"How much money do we have?" he asked her, as she gave Leah some breakfast that the little girl passed on to Ste.

Amy didn't look at him. "Not enough for a doctor," she replied, coldly, reading his thoughts.

Ste cursed, causing Amy to give him an annoyed look and make Leah promise to never use that word, ever.

"Sorry," Ste groaned, rubbing his face with tiredness.

"Can you ask at work, do you think?" Amy asked, hesitantly.

Ste frowned. Could he? Would Brendan lend them money?

Would the man Ste had recently slept with give him money for his family? Could Ste even ask for charity from Brendan?

Well, probably not. He remembered Jacqui's words from the day before. He might just make Brendan angry.

But, For Lucas's sake, he had to try. After all, it wouldn't be charity. Ste would pay him back.

"I'll try," he said. He couldn't give Amy false hope, but he had to try. "I'll go straight in," he added, "show willing."

She nodded and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Leah reached up so she could do the same, and Ste gave her a hug before he went. He went to see Lucas again, too, kissing him gently on the forehead as the boy woke up groggily and started to cry. He had to tear himself away as Amy arrived and took the boy in her arms, and he had to remind himself that the only way he could help would be to earn some money. He left for work with a heavy heart.

By the time he got there, the plan had changed. He couldn't ask Brendan. It would be impossible, after everything Jacqui had said. Cheryl was more likely, though. Women had a soft spot for kids, and Cheryl was no exception. It was worth a shot.

He found her on the first floor, in her 'VIP section'.

"Cheryl, er…"

"Oh, morning Ste," she greeted, though with much less enthusiasm than she had on their first meeting. She was probably still upset about Warren. Ste hoped he'd done nothing wrong.

"Morning," he replied, feeling stupid for not starting with that himself, "can I have a word?"

"Of course, love," she said kindly, "you know, Brendan was impressed with you yesterday. Said you made a good impression with Danny. That's no mean feat you know?"

"Er, thanks," Ste said, trying to imagine Brendan possibly saying anything nice about anyone. It didn't seem to fit.

"Well, not in so many words," Cheryl clarified with a small smile. "I think he said 'that new boy, he isn't as feckless as I first thought." She grinned. "I know it doesn't sound like it, but that's high praise from Brendan Brady."

Ste did believe it, but, nice as it was, he had more important things on his mind. "Er, I was wondering if I could, maybe borrow some money, you know, just for a bit? I'd pay it back, every penny!"

Her features formed a frown, "You've only been here two days!"

"Three…" Ste corrected.

"Two minutes you've been here, and you want to borrow money?" she repeated harshly.

"But… it's very important, Cheryl, right, my …."

"I don't care what it's for," she interrupted, "I don't lend money to people I barely know, and it was inappropriate for you to ask."

"I… sorry," Ste mumbled, a sting of tears springing to his eyes, though whether they were shame, anger or disappointment he wasn't certain. "I'm sorry."

"Right," Cheryl replied, voice still cold, "so you should be. Now get on with your work, and earn your money like a real man."

She turned her back on him. There was no more definite dismissal, and with heart ready to break Ste trundled down the stairs. He needed money. He had to have it. He had to find it somewhere. Should he escape the club for the day? Risk losing his job for something risky that could help?

He had reached the office and the door was open. Thoughts were flooding through his head. Should he go home now? Let Amy know he'd failed, so she didn't get her hopes up? He still peeked inside, searching for Brendan, for any sort of physical comfort that could be available to him. Brendan was not there, but something was.

Ste spotted it instantly. On the desk, right in the centre, it stood out like a light in a fog. It was like it had been put there by divine intervention. A metal box with a heavy looking lock. A metal box that was currently open. Ste's eyes were glued to it instantly.

He only needed enough to pay a doctor. This wasn't wrong; it was for Lucas.

He looked quickly around himself, listening for voices. Cheryl was still upstairs, and it sounded like others were with her. There was no sign of Brendan, and as far as Ste could tell, there was no one on this floor. It would be wrong not to take this opportunity. Lucas' life depended on it.

He stepped carefully into the office, hoping the floor and door wouldn't creek with the movement, and made his way around the desk.

The box was more than he could have hoped for. There were notes in there. Ste could barely imagine owning that much money. He reached out a hand to touch the notes, to feel them. He wasn't going to be greedy. He just wanted enough to pay for a doctor to treat Lucas.

He picked up the topmost note.

The door of the office slammed suddenly shut, making him drop the note and his head spring up to meet the eyes of the person who had caught him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" growled a furious Brendan Brady.

Ste's mouth dropped open. He couldn't speak. He could barely form a coherent thought.

Brendan didn't give him time to explain. He grabbed him by the chin and threw him back against the wall behind him. "You thieving piece of scum!" he barked into Ste's face, his own expression one of pure rage and betrayal.

"I'm sorry!" Ste cried.

"You're sorry?" Brendan repeated, "you're sorry?"

"I am, please!" Ste begged.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the crap out of you!" Brendan growled, face inches from Ste's, his grip on Ste's face hard enough to bruise. Ste could only be honest with him.

"Lucas is sick! I need to…"

"Who the fuck is Lucas?!" Brendan shouted, his expression only seeming to darken.

"My son! Please! I was desperate!"

Brendan didn't let him go, but he didn't tighten his grip or start to throw punches either. He glared at Ste, anger still clear in every angle of his face. Ste could feel his hot breath on his face.

"Get the fuck out of my club," he barked, suddenly.

Ste could barely breathe. He knew he was getting off lightly leaving with his face in one piece, but what would they do if he didn't even have this money coming in?

He lifted a tentative hand to Brendan's face. "Please…" he began.

"Out!" Brendan shouted, grabbing his arm, and not being careful as he dragged Ste out of the office. A handful of people were beginning to arrive, but Ste had no time for them. The tears that had threatened to fall since his confrontation with Cheryl were clouding his vision, and he was burning with shame and guilt.

He was dragged down the stairs, through the cellar and thrown out through the door unceremoniously. He landed on his side, not far from the steps that Warren had thrown him down, tears now streaming down his face. "Fuck off!" Brendan repeated for good measure, and slammed the door, shutting him out.

Ste hadn't even been paid for the work he had done.

He stared at the door in pure shock for a while longer and shivered. Brendan had thrown him out. Brendan had caught him at his lowest. Brendan would hate him forever. He couldn't process the idea, which was ridiculous. He'd known the man a matter of days. But there was a more important thing on his mind. Brendan was a lost cause. He needed money and he needed it today. He needed to pay a doctor and he needed to find a new job to keep all four of them fed and sheltered.

The job could wait. He didn't know how long Lucas could.

He knew ways to get easy money quickly. The most obvious way was to steal it. Ste had stolen before, more than once from Terry, but being caught by Brendan had knocked his confidence even while it broke his heart. He couldn't face being caught by the police. If he ended up in prison, God knew what would happen to Amy and the kids. She'd forgive him of course, eventually, but Ste couldn't put the family through that, being unable to find enough to eat, to be cold and scared.

It was bad enough seeing Brendan's angry betrayed face. Thinking of it now physically hurt Ste. He felt like hitting himself for ruining it all again. He'd had something good going and he'd destroyed it in thirty seconds of stupidity. Brendan was never going to go near him again.

He felt an icy cold air on his face, chilling him to the core. He wasn't sure if it was real or his imagination playing tricks because of his guilt. And sadness. He pulled his clothes tighter anyway, and shoved his hands in his pockets

He couldn't try to steal again. It was too risky, and he didn't have time to beg passers by. The solution was there in his pocket. It had been in his mind since he'd seen Lucas that morning, as the card that had been in his pocket had been there since the night before. A way to make money, quickly.

After all, Sir Alexander hadn't been that bad. He was a bit overweight, and much older than Ste, but he hadn't seemed unkind.

Ste brought his hand carefully out of his pocket and stared at the address upon the card he now held. Just a short walk away really. Sir Alexander seemed to have some sort of shipping company, and Ste would have to go through all the docks to get there, but he could handle that. Probably.

He couldn't waste anymore time while he was stood here worrying about a man he barely knew and would never see again. He walked in the direction he thought was right, asked strangers the way, being worried by the strange looks he received. He passed huge stone buildings covered in carvings he barely dared look at.

Sir Alexander's business seemed to be in an enormous, imposing building. It was not a place for strangers, its corridors were wide and cold, and even the floors were more beautiful and expensive than everything Ste owned. No one stopped him as he walked in cautiously, noticing the strange silence that reigned, until he came across a stern looking woman in smart, simple black clothes. She looked at Ste like he was a slug who'd thoughtlessly chosen to slide across her hand.

"What do you think you are doing?" she half asked, half scolded.

Ste held out the card. "Sir Alexander asked me to come," he muttered, assuming Sir Alexander would not want more information than that shared.

The woman looked him up and down with disbelief and barely concealed contempt. "Sir Alexander Carmichael asked _you _to come _here_?" as though such a thing were less likely than a lion asking for an appointment.

"Yeah!" Ste replied angrily, "you go and ask him if you want. Tell him it's Ste from last night."

The woman hesitated, looking down her nose at him suspiciously. "Stay here," she ordered, "do not touch anything!"

As much as the order made him want to run his hands over everything in sight, Ste nodded and did as he was told. Annoying this woman was not as valuable as this meeting could prove. She glared at him once more before disappearing down a corridor, leaving Ste to shuffle nervously about. She returned moments later, expression pinched and annoyed, and Ste guessed Sir Alexander had not denied him entry.

"Follow me," she instructed coolly.

Taking a breath, Ste obeyed, forcing his feet to move. How would this work? Would Sir Alexander want to do it here and now? In his own business? That would be… strange. But Ste'd done it with Brendan on a desk. Why was this so different? He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that knew the vast difference between that and this very well.

The woman nodded to the widest door in the place, then didn't wait for any questions Ste may have had before disappearing back the way they had come. Ste watched her go, and pushed down his trepidation.

He knocked.

**Love to hear reviews. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I don't know why I can't just write a cute little romance. So, instead, here's more angst. Because we don't get enough of that on the show, do we?**

**Enjoy is the wrong word, but I hope it keeps you interested.**

**Thanks for reading, and love to read your reviews, so thanks to everyone who has taken the time thus far.**

* * *

"Enter," called an authoritative voice on the other side of the door.

Ste opened the door to the largest office he had ever seen. Everything was wooden panelling or marble, and the desk was bigger than Ste's bed. At the desk, leaning back in a huge chair, face a mixture of smugness and pleasure, sat Sir Alexander Carmichael.

"Steven," he greeted, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Ste stayed silent, not trusting his voice not to betray his tumbling avalanche of emotions.

Sir Alexander put his head to one side. "Could it be that, less than twenty four hours after denying me, you have decided to reconsider my offer?" he said with a smirk.

Ste felt like grinding his teeth in annoyance. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing there, and now he was on some sort of power trip; gloating over Ste's misfortune. He nodded his head.

"And what prompted the change of mind, boy?" the businessman asked casually, his mouth twitching at the corners. "What happened to 'I'm not a prostitute'?"

Blood was pounding in Ste's ears. Wasn't it enough that he was here? Did Sir Alexander need to gloat too? There was no way Ste was mentioning Lucas or Brendan here and now

Thankfully, Sir Alexander didn't wait for a response, but stood up leisurely, never taking his eyes off the younger man, drinking in his body, and, for reasons Ste couldn't even begin to understand, enjoying his scrawniness. Ste shifted his feet self-consciously under such scrutiny. Sir Alexander didn't seem to notice Ste's discomfort, and stepped around his desk to lean back against it.

"Come here," he instructed, quietly, watching Ste with interest, clearly wondering if Ste would obey. For a moment Ste wasn't sure he would, but just one thought of Lucas so still this morning was enough to push him forwards. His unsteady feet made their own way across the floor, and he closed the gap between them, stopping just a foot in front of Sir Alexander.

Sir Alexander reached for him as soon as Ste was near enough, running a hand over his face. "How old are you, boy?" he asked, awe in his voice.

"Twenty-two," Ste replied honestly.

"You could pass for fifteen, you know," Sir Alexander assured with a smile, making Ste's insides wriggle with unease. He needed to not think like that. He was already feeling so vulnerable.

Sir Alexander didn't say any more though. Instead he stroked Ste's hair, then ran the same hand down his back until it rested on Ste's arse. Ste focused on the clock behind Sir Alexander's head, wondering if he should ask for the money now or not. He had a feeling now was better than later; he had no reason to assume Sir Alexander was honest, and it was definitely going to be awkward whenever he asked for it. But he didn't want to prompt Sir Alexander to change his mind. Maybe the best time was the end.

Sir Alexander finished kneading Ste's arse with a sigh. "Another time," he breathed, "I am at work after all." Ste frowned. He needed the money now, today. There was no other reason he'd be here. He was about to protest when he felt a firm push on his arse, and Sir Alexander guided him around to the other side of the desk. The older man sat down on his chair, leaning back, and opened his fly. Ste stared at him for only a few moments, knowing exactly what he wanted, before getting carefully to his knees. The marble felt cold on his legs, even through his trousers.

Sir Alexander pulled his cock out. The sight of it made Ste's stomach squirm uncomfortably. He took a deep breath, and tried to think of anything else. Not Lucas. He couldn't associate his child with this moment. Instead he tried to picture a slimmer, more muscular frame, darker hair, and sad blue eyes that he wanted to light up. A moustache.

He shuffled forwards on his knees, getting as close in as he could, settling between Sir Alexander's shiny black shoes, and reached for the penis.

The door burst open.

Just for a moment, a crazy part of Ste's brain thought it was Brendan, there to rescue him from this nightmare, to forgive him, to fight away the monsters, to whisk him away. He fell backwards, away from Sir Alexander as though he were poison.

Of course it wasn't Brendan. Brendan didn't know where he was, and wouldn't care if he did. Why should he? This intruder was definitely not a good one. And he was very unlikely to rescue Ste.

"Well, this is a turn up for the books," Danny Houston greeted.

Ste froze. Beside him, Sir Alexander clumsily tried to shove his penis away. The severe looking woman in black almost fell past Danny at the door.

"I'm sorry, sir," she began, "he wouldn't st…"

She froze at the sight of Sir Alexander trying to cover his now flaccid cock, then squealed and ran. Sir Alexander turned purple as he glared at Danny. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

Danny looked as smug as a man could while keeping his face emotionless. "I just wanted to confirm our arrangement, make sure you weren't getting cold feet. I never dreamed I'd be interrupting something so… intimate."

Ste stared at the floor, fighting his urge to run. He needed that money.

"Well, you can fuck off!" Sir Alexander's voice sounded strange with such anger and using that sort of language. It stuck out.

Danny smirked openly, and leant against the door. "I think there's someone else you might wanna be talking to right now, before a certain … activity of yours becomes common knowledge?"

Sir Alexander swore again, the coarseness vile in his refined accent, and Ste watched him run out of the office, presumably to stop the woman who worked for him talking. Danny turned his cold, expressionless gaze upon Ste who looked about himself, wondering if there was a way to rescue this. Danny stepped towards him carefully, and Ste tried to resist the urge to step back.

"I'm assuming Brendan sent you?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer, "must say, didn't think he had it in him, using one of his 'boys' like that. Can't be as fond of you as I thought."

"This has got nothing to do with Brendan!" Ste protested.

Danny sniffed, "Really? And when my people track you down and ask you less politely; still stick to that story, will yah?"

"He sacked me!" Ste cried, the idea of some of Danny's associates arriving at his children's home more than enough to scare the truth out of him.

Danny raised an eyebrow.

"It's true, ask him yourself!" Ste cried, stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out.

Danny contemplated him a moment longer. "Hence the sudden change in profession."

Ste couldn't deny it, so Danny continued, "I still have a use for you, but now ain't the time. I've got power over him as long as what he does with boys like you stays a secret, which means as long as he's happy, and it stays a secret, you will live comfortably with full use of your arms and legs. If that changes…"

Danny didn't need to finish the threat. Ste nodded, he understood.

Danny scooped up a bit of paper. "Be here, 9 o'clock sharp. Do not be late." He scribbled an address on the paper, and handed it to Ste, who stared at him blankly. "Well?" Danny said, "what are you waiting for?"

Ste swallowed. Desperate times called for desperate measures. "My son needs to see a doctor. I haven't got enough, I…"

Danny shoved some a bag under his nose. It clinked as it swung, mesmerising Ste. "Call it a down payment. Don't worry, you'll pay it back in full. Stuart!"

He shouted the last word in the direction of a door. A heavy set man in his thirties walked in through the door and looked at them expressionlessly.

"Escort young Steven here back to his place," Danny instructed.

"Yes boss," the heavy answered, holding the door open for Ste.

Ste snatched the purse greedily, then considered just running. He had the money in his hand; he could escape now. But that was exactly why Danny had called his goon. If Ste showed any sign of running away, Danny would make certain he couldn't run at all.

He stepped carefully around Danny, trying his best not to look dishonest. Then made his way over to the door. The smirking goon gave him almost no space to get by him, so Ste squeezed past uncomfortably. As he left, he spotted Sir Alexander in the corridor, almost begging the weeping woman to keep silent, and Ste wondered what it was like to live in a world where the worst thing that could happen was people finding out you liked to shag other men, where starvation was a myth for other people to worry about, and you never had to chose between your dignity and your children's lives.

Ste and his escort, who walked beside him without talking, made their way back across town quite easily. The streets were not crowded and the people they saw didn't look at them. Looking at his companion, Ste wondered if that was a benefit of being over six feet tall with a face like a scarred potato. His eyes found alleys and little passageways of their own accord, but none that he was certain wouldn't leave him trapped, and it didn't take long for Stuart to clock the looks, and to take a firm grip on Ste's upper arm.

Ste had no choice but to lead him home. He was not going to be left alone until the goon was satisfied that he knew where Ste lived and what his weak spots were. He didn't just work for Danny now. Danny owned him.

Leah was stood quietly in the doorway. She had none of her usual spirit and energy. She didn't run to greet him as he would have expected on a normal day. As he got closer, she lifted her arms to him a silent request to be carried.

The goon gave him a nod and let him go. He'd been satisfied by Leah's greeting that he'd found Ste's home, but at that moment, Ste couldn't care less. He went inside.

Empty handed by the cold and empty fireplace sat Amy, looking like a child herself and lost in a world of her own. The sight made Ste cling tighter to Leah.

Part of him believed that he should have known the moment his son drew his last breath. The complete opposite of that pride and joy he had experienced when Amy had given birth safely should have registered in his very bones without the need to see this empty house. The money in his pocket felt like poisoned lead.

"When did it happen?" he asked aloud.

Amy jumped; she hadn't heard him come in. She was pale and Ste wondered if she'd eaten anything at all that day. "About an hour ago," she replied.

Ste nodded, the tears burning his eyes. Even if he'd managed to steal the money from the club he wouldn't have got it in time. Even if Cheryl had leant it, it would have done no good.

Amy stood up shakily and ran to him, then clung to his neck for dear life. "He must be so scared," she breathed into his neck.

"No, Amy," he replied, "he's safe now."

She sobbed harder, and Leah hid her face in Ste's other shoulder, as Ste felt the world crash around him. He'd failed. He'd angered God and his beautiful boy had paid the price. And now he couldn't even stop. Danny would use him to keep Sir Alexander on side, and all Ste could do was try to keep Leah and Amy safe.

"How did you do it?" Amy gasped against him.

It took a moment of considering the question for Ste to realise that Amy couldn't be blaming him. She didn't know any of it.

"Do what?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Pay the doctor, of course!" Amy sobbed into his neck.

"What?" Ste asked without thinking.

"How did you pay him?" Amy repeated.

Ste pulled back and stared at her. "Sorry," he said, "what has happened since I left this morning?"

Amy frowned at him. "The doctor came," she told him, "and he said Lucas was… I can't remember the word, but he had to take him."

Unable to understand what he was being told, Ste stared at her.

"They won't let me see him 'til tomorrow. I don't know what to do with myself."

Ste almost dropped Leah. "He's alive?"

Amy blinked, "I don't…"

He lifted her off the ground, "There's still hope!" he cried.

Amy squealed and clung to him. Leah said "It was the man."

"What's that sweetie?" Ste asked, realising he'd got so relieved that Lucas wasn't dead he hadn't questioned the arrival of the doctor.

"The man did it," Leah repeated, smugly,

"Yes, Leah," Amy smiled, "the doctor came and he's going to do everything he can to make Lucas better."

"But it was the man who asked him to," said Leah with a smile. She didn't get to know more than her parents very often, so right now she was enjoying herself immensely.

"Daddy asked the doctor to come, Leah," Amy told her as though it was obvious. "Didn't you?" she prompted Ste, certain of a 'yes'.

"No," Ste replied honestly, "what man, Leah?"

"The man who came when Mummy was asleep," Leah informed them, seriously.

Ste glanced at Amy. He didn't mean to be critical; he knew she'd barely slept the last two nights, he wasn't going to blame her for dozing off, he just wanted to see if it was true. She answered defensively anyway.

"Only for a second," she cried.

"Who was the man, Leah?" Ste asked, suspiciously.

"He came with Auntie Jacqui," the little girl said, "and he looked like this. " She put her hand in front of her mouth and dangled her fingers under her nose. Ste only imagined a man with tentacles on his face for a moment before he realised he knew exactly who it was.

"With Jacqui?" asked Amy with confusion, "Was it someone from the club?"

"Er," said Ste, "I've got to her… go." He couldn't imagine what had happened, but he had to find out.

"Go?" Amy cried, "what's going on Ste?"

"I really don't know, I'm sorry, I've got to…" he didn't finish the sentence, just ran through the door.

**Thanks for reading! Please take time to review… x**


	13. Chapter 13

**I have been battling a vast amount of StendaninDublin and Pa related writer's block, mainly due to how totally out of this world amazing the show has been this week leaving me a mess of nerves and tears and approaching a heart attack, so managed to get this done just because I realised there was not going to be more 'til Boxing Day! Which I will miss. So nothing 'til Thursday for me! How will I live?!**

**So I started writing, then just read **_**that **_**spoiler, and may have some more writer's block, though for quite different reasons. Sorry if that happens. In the mean time, here's some more of HOP. **

**Enjoy!**

Ste ran all the way to the club. He only paused when he got to the back door. There he froze in uncertainty.

In the light of the gas lamps inside, he could see figures moving around. Was Brendan one of them? He had to be. Giving orders and behaving normally, except now he'd done something amazing for Ste.

The figures cleared. There was no one in the cellar now, so if Ste wanted to see Brendan, this was his best chance. He went in carefully and quietly. It was only early evening, but he could already hear the feet of the punters upstairs in the lower bar. There was a small pile of washing up at the sink, which made Ste smile, even though he couldn't stop. He had to see Brendan.

He climbed the stairs with much trepidation, heart clamouring, knowing that Brendan wasn't far away. The door to the office was shut, the wood looking firm and strong, like its owner. Ste couldn't decide whether to knock or not. Was it polite? Was polite even what he wanted? He opened the door and went in.

The office was empty. Everything inside looked exactly as it had earlier, though with one little difference; the box for money had gone. Ste wondered if it had been put in a safe or something.

The whole place felt like Brendan.

But that was a stupid thought anyway. Ste had only been there two days, you couldn't get sentimental about a job you'd had for two days. That was stupid. And he had to ignore that part of him that was hoping he still had a job. Brendan may have tried to protect a sick child but there was no way he would just let someone he thought was a thief work for him. And there was little Ste could do now to convince him otherwise. It was true, he would have taken that money and never mentioned it to anyone.

"Looking for something else to nick?" an unfriendly voice growled from the hallway behind him.

He turned quickly, wide eyed. "No!" he protested, "I… er… came to say…" he stumbled. Thank you? Sorry? Please fuck me? No, not the last one.

Brendan sniffed, "Not doing such a great job of saying anything, right now, are ye Steven?" He strode past Ste and sat at the desk.

Ste stayed hovering by the doorway. "Er, thank you," he said.

Brendan raised an eyebrow, "Thank you for what?"

Though Ste wondered if this was a power trip or a genuine question, he answered honestly, "For helping Lucas."

Brendan looked down at the desk, suddenly pretending to work. "Don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled to the wood.

"Leah told us it was you," Ste replied, uncertainly, "well, she said it was the man with …" he mimicked Leah's personification of a moustache, then regretted it, knowing he must look like an idiot.

Brendan looked at him, and a part of Ste hoped that strange expression was the result of trying not to laugh. "Brat," the Irishman grumbled, "promised me she'd keep her mouth shut."

Ste tried to hold back his own grin, "She's six. You tell her not to do something, that's all she wants to do all day."

Brendan snorted. "Dec was…"

And he stopped. Right in the middle of the sentence. Ste wondered what he'd been about to say. Deck? Or was it the accent, was it something different?

A strange silence followed. Ste waited for Brendan to complete the sentence he started, and when no words seemed to be forthcoming, thought maybe he should say thank you and sorry again. But Brendan got in first with something else.

"You'll be working for half wages 'til you've paid it back."

Ste nodded. It wasn't unreasonable, in fact it was very generous, as Ste had imagined he would still be sacked. Brendan was being exceedingly understanding, though it would still be tough getting them all fed on such a small amount. "I'll work more hours too," he offered.

"Naturally," Brendan muttered, "and if I ever find you stealing again, I will break both your legs, do you understand me?"

This time Ste swallowed while he nodded, "I understand," he added for good measure, not wanting Brendan to demonstrate his ability to do such a thing. He wanted to ask, why had Brendan even bothered going to Ste's home? Why would he even think about giving Ste a second chance? But he didn't dare.

Brendan stared at him a moment longer, and Ste imagined that gaze was on his lips. "Well, get to it then," Brendan instructed, "boy."

Ste nodded. He trudged back through the door of the office, down the stairs, ignoring the sounds of partying strangers. He arrived at the sink, filled it with washing up and hot water, and started on it again. He knew he should be happy. He had a job, his son was being treated. He could give Danny the money back and not be in his debt forever. The melancholy he felt was wrong. It was selfish and stupid. It was natural that Brendan would not trust him now, wouldn't look at him the way he had started to over the last few days, not share those illicit moments with him anymore. Ste was the stupid one for letting himself want it so much.

"'Ere, Ste," hissed a voice from half way up the stairs, "Any word on your Lucas?"

It was Jacqui, leaning over the banister. Ste gave her a half smile. "The doctor took him to the hospital," he said, "we don't know any more than that."

Jacqui nodded, "Do you know who paid for it?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he said, "I mean, I don't know why, but…" he looked at her hopefully. She'd taken Brendan to see Lucas, maybe she knew more about what happened.

"I don't even know how he knew," she told him, conspiratorially, "one minute, Cheryl's having a right moan about you asking for a loan, the next he's ordering me to take him to yours."

That explained some of it, then. At least Brendan knew Ste had tried to get the money honestly first, though it was still a massive thing to do for an employee. Ste couldn't explain anything else to Jacqui. That would have been a poor way to repay Brendan his kindness.

"I guess, underneath all that… posing, he's actually a good man," he suggested.

Jacqui didn't look overly convinced, but as she had no more clues simply replied, "Maybe," before disappearing back up the stairs.

Ste spent the evening working hard. He had nothing better to do, and he needed to prove his worth to Brendan. There may be no hope to get back where they were, but he couldn't handle the idea of being hated altogether. Washing up was dull work without the hope of seeing the beautiful man, but he could handle it.

He hung back after closing time, making sure everything was OK, the basement was spotless, that there were no left over items waiting to be cleaned. And still Brendan didn't come down to see him. That was no accident. Ste was certain Brendan was avoiding him. He probably couldn't stand to set eyes on him.

After clearing away everything he could see, he realised he couldn't hang around anymore. He was being unfair to Amy, leaving her to cope on her own at this moment in time. He took one last look around, decided not to go back up to the office, and left instead.

Naturally, it was dark when he left the club. The streets were clear except for the odd drunk and tramp, none of whom paid any attention to Ste. He glanced back at the club as he left. The lights were being put out, one at a time, slowly. The warmth of the gas lamps looked so welcoming, and Ste wondered if he imagined that shadow in the window of the last lit room.

He made his way back, trying to push Brendan from his mind. He had Lucas to worry about, and he was out of his mind with worry. Nothing else should be in there. The thought of his baby boy alone in a scary building was bad enough, the idea that he might be in pain, almost intolerable. All Ste could do was hope and pray.

He walked the streets with a heavy heart and heavier steps, barely looking around at the darkness around him. He almost didn't notice the small group outside his home, though the second he did he was filled with desperation to both run away and fight, to save himself, and get them away from his family.

Footsteps behind him told him he couldn't run, and that fighting would be impossible. He was outnumbered at least five to one. He forced his feet to carry on walking, to face up to this, to what he'd managed to put out of his mind for hours.

Danny greeted him with a cold, "Ste."

Ste was almost too scared to speak.

"Where have you been, Steven?" asked Danny, aggressively. Even though Ste could think of no reason to lie, that tone of voice was enough to keep him quiet. "I don't like being stood up."

Ste swore. He'd completely forgotten he'd agreed to meet Danny already. "Look, I'm sorry, right, it's just, my son got…"

"Do I look like I care, Ste?" Danny interrupted, "We had an agreement, and you let me down."

"Wait! Hang on!" Ste cried, aware that the gap between Danny's men and himself was closing on all sides, "I've got your money!" he dug in his pockets and located the purse easily enough. He threw it to Danny, who caught it effortlessly. "So, I don't owe you anything, right, so you can leave me alone."

Danny looked at the money in his hand, then at Ste. Then he threw it at one of his men.

"Billy, do you see any money?"

The purse disappeared in the lacky's hand. "No Sir," he replied with a grin.

"But…" Ste started.

"You still owe me, Ste," Danny stated, calmly. "Your arse is still mine to do with as I please."

"But I paid you…" Ste protested.

"Boys, I think Ste needs to learn what happens when people don't keep their promises."

"I didn't…" Ste cried.

"Shut it," growled a man on his left, far closer than he'd realised in the darkness.

"Avoid his face," Danny instructed, "and his arse and his hands. They're the only useful bits of him to me. And I suppose his value goes down if he can't walk."

"Danny, please!" Ste cried, realising tears were pouring from his eyes. The fair haired man showed no remorse or pity. He watched, quietly, disinterestedly, as four men beat Ste to the ground. When it was over, and Ste felt like he wanted to cut away his body to avoid the pain, Danny bent down by his head.

"Tomorrow you will meet me at the address on this piece of paper. You will entertain Alexander Carmichael until the deal is done. You will let him fuck you if he wants to. If you are not there, the boys will come and fetch you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Ste muttered.

Danny nodded and stood up straight, looking down at Ste like he were a parasite. "Filthy queer," he muttered to himself, then strode off, his entourage in tow, leaving Ste to pick himself up through the pain.

**You know the best cure for writer's block? Reviews…**


	14. Chapter 14

The hospital was big and unwelcoming. The walls were cold and white. Severe women in starched white pinafores looked suspiciously at Ste, Amy and Leah as they sat waiting to be allowed to see Lucas. They bustled past, looking busy and strict and terrifying, and Ste was not at all sure this was the right place for his baby boy.

These chairs weren't good for him either. His whole body still ached from the beating, and there was a massive group of bruises on his right thigh, and he couldn't sit without pressing them against the solid wood of the chair, and he couldn't sit back, either, because of similar bruises dotted over his back. He had a constant throbbing pain for his right ankle, made worse by trying not to limp in front of Amy and Leah. They had enough to worry about already.

Danny's gang had followed instructions, at least. Ste could still walk, and his face and hands looked perfectly normal. It had been a challenge to hide his body from Amy as he had dressed for today, but he had managed it all so well that Amy had not even asked him if he was alright, but then that might have been because she was understandably distracted.

A tall, skinny lady with a face like a turkey crossed with a map marched stiffly towards them. Ste stood, wincing slightly. The lady stopped, glaring at them.

"What are you doing here?" she squawked.

Amy looked nervously at Ste, and picked up a worried looking Leah.

"We came to see Lucas Hay," Ste tried.

She gave him a look of hatred, "Visiting hours are 2pm until 4pm."

"Er, right," Ste replied, "but, I've got to go to work, then, right, and…"

"Those are the rules, there are no exceptions," she replied, tone harsh.

"But…" Ste began to argue.

"There are no exceptions. The doctors and nurses are working, and we cannot have people just wondering as they please."

"But…"

"The hospital is open to visitors between 2 and 4 pm," the turkey-faced lady repeated, "Now I must ask you to leave."

"He's only a baby, he'll be scared!" Ste argued.

"And now is the time to learn to be brave," the lady replied coldly, "He is not the only child in here. Good day Mr Hay."

She turned away from them and marched away. Ste wanted nothing more than to follow her and force her to let him see his baby, but knew that would be useless. He turned to Amy.

"So, you have to come and spend as long as you can here at two, right? Tell him I love him, that I'd do anything for him."

"He knows that, Ste," she replied, holding Leah close to her, which Ste knew was for her own benefit as much as Leah's. The little girl was unusually silent, probably scared of that woman. Ste knew he was.

"Make sure you tell him, though, yeah?" he said, sadly.

Amy nodded. Ste kissed her on the forehead, and repeated the action with Leah. "I gotta go to work, maybe see if Brendan will let me have an hour in the afternoon to come see Lucas." Amy nodded, but even as he said that, Ste knew it wasn't going to be like that. He couldn't ask Brendan for time off this afternoon when he was going to have to take time off to meet Danny and Sir Alex. He had no idea how he was going to do that.

They walked hand in hand out of the hospital, then, at the corner of the street they went their separate ways, Amy and Leah going back to their home and Ste in the direction of the club. He walked half way down the road before he turned back, silently, making no fuss. He walked back to the hospital, back in the door, and then followed the way the scary looking nurse had gone.

The trick to getting somewhere you're not supposed to be is to look like you are supposed to be there. Ste had learnt that when he'd first got his family away from the controlling violence of Terry. He'd managed to get more than one meal by looking like he was supposed to be carrying food around. Now, the only person who had reason to be suspicious of him was the woman who had talked to them. No one else questioned him as he pretended to know exactly where he was going.

He tried a couple of corridors, trying to peer through windows in doors like he knew what he would see on the other side and was just checking on them, rather than searching for his child. He had barely managed to check five rooms before he turned a corner to see the turkey faced lady walking in his direction.

He slipped through the nearest door, into a small, dark space. He heard feet outside marching by, but stayed quiet. He couldn't be sure she had passed by.

He fidgeted as he waited, feet shifting, until he felt them touch something. He froze. The something shrieked.

Ste spun, staring into the dark, trying to figure out what he'd touched, while hissing "Shhh!"

"Who are you?" hissed a girl's voice by his elbow.

"Er, I could ask you the same!" he replied in a whisper, unwilling to answer the question.

"I work here," the voice replied, angrily.

"Well, why are you hiding in a cupboard then?" Ste hissed back.

"Um… I'm not hiding!" replied the voice, "I'm just… avoiding."

"Avoiding who?" Ste asked, curiously, even though it scarcely mattered. He was wasting time.

"Sister Grace," replied the stranger, and Ste would have bet everything he had on Sister Grace being the turkey faced woman. "Who are you?" the stranger demanded.

"Er… looking for Lucas Hay?" Ste replied, unable to come up with a decent lie.

"Well, he's not in the cleaning cupboard," the stranger replied, sardonically. "Are you his Dad?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ste breathed, "is he alright?"

There were a few moments of silence, and Ste wondered if the girl had been thinking. "He's been crying a lot," she said after a moment.

Part of Ste was miserable at that statement – his son was scared and sad and he hadn't been there to comfort him. The other part was relieved – crying meant he was stronger than he had been when Ste had last seen him.

"Can I see him?" he asked.

"Er, we're not supposed to…" the girl started.

"Please? I have to work during visiting hours. And I promise I won't tell anyone. About the cupboard or anything."

There must have been something pitiable in Ste's voice, because the girl sniffed. "Alright," she said, "but when I say go, you go, got it?"

"Yeah," Ste agreed instantly.

The girl turned out to be a nurse, dressed in her own starched white pinafore, but younger even than Ste. She didn't have the 'looking like you're supposed to be somewhere' thing down, even though she was supposed to be there, but Ste didn't care. She took him to Lucas.

The little boy was in a long room with lots of other children, all of whom seemed much older than him, and curled up in a white bed. It was clean, and looked a hell of a lot more comfortable than anything Ste had ever slept in, but Lucas was pale and scared, and looked like he wanted nothing more than to be out of there.

Ste nearly ran to him, it was only the nurses hand on his arm and whisper in his ear "Be calm, he needs you to be calm and brave!" that stopped him. He marched over, forcing his face to look pleased rather than terrified.

"Hey, little man," he greeted with a smile.

Lucas began to cry and held his little arms out in Ste's direction. Ste grabbed him up, and hugged him, cooing, promising it was all going to be fine. He wasn't sure anything was going to be fine, but he knew that was what the little boy needed right now.

"Er… you can't stay long, right?"

The nurse was hovering nervously around them. Other children were staring at them, nervously, jealously or just miserably.

"Mummy's coming to see you this afternoon, OK? Then you can tell her how brave you've been and she'll be so proud of you."

"Nurse Collins!" shrieked a voice from the doorway. And she was pissed.

"Sister!" gasped the nurse, obviously terrified. "I was just…"

"Telling me to go," Ste finished for her. It would be a poor way to pay the nurse back for the favour to tell on her.

The sister's gaze snapped onto him, "The doctor will be here in moments, are you trying to get in his way?"

"No…" Ste tried.

"Are you trying to disrupt the hospital?"

"No, my son is scared!"

"And now is the time for him to stop being scared. Your encouraging him to be scared is not…"

"I'm not encouraging him…"

"You are, Mr Hay. You're showing him that it's right to be scared, that he can be a snivelling weakling for all his life."

"But he's only two…"

"He will not always be, Mr Hay, now leave before I have you removed!" She glared him down, this terrifying woman, and while Ste wanted to shout at her, that she was wrong, he also believed her. She was a nurse. She'd treated hundreds of children. She should know.

He kissed Lucas on the forehead, "You've got to be brave, yeah? Mummy'll be here later."

Lucas sensed his father was going. He screamed louder, he clung.

"And Nurse Collins and Sister Grace and the doctor, they're gonna make you better," Ste cooed, "and as soon as you're better, you can come home, yeah?"

Lucas wouldn't let go. Sister Grace clearly expected that, she took the boy and pushed him down onto the bed. "Go!" she ordered at Ste, and he turned and ran as fast as his swollen ankle would allow him, the sound of his son's cries following him down the corridors. Even when he reached the street he thought he could still hear them, and his own tears were pouring from his eyes. People were giving him a wide berth on the street, and he assumed he must look half mad, running from a hospital with tears rolling down his face. He forced himself to breathe.

He wasn't sure how he got to the club. His feet led themselves, without guidance from his brain. His tears had thankfully stopped by the time he arrived. Brendan thought ill enough of him as it was, he didn't need to be seen as weak too. He stared blankly at the building for a few moments, though no real thoughts passed through his mind.

He wondered inside without much thought either. There was no one around, though the door was open. He wondered vaguely if Brendan was in yet. A couple of middle aged ladies were cleaning the basement, so Ste took the stairs up towards the office.

The door was open. Brendan was sat on the chair facing the door, legs on the desk, expression blank. He clearly hadn't been working. Instead he seemed almost as lost as Ste felt.

He blinked at Ste, frowning as he looked at his face. "Is he… alright?"

Ste didn't need to check who he was. "I don't really know," he answered, honestly, "he was awake."

Brendan nodded, and looked again at his shoes, before clearing his throat.

"He was so scared," Ste added. He hadn't meant to be so honest, and he felt the hot tears returning at his own words. He fought them back as they tried to burn his eyes.

Brendan cleared his throat again. "Come in and close the door," he ordered.

Ste didn't think what was going on in Brendan's head. He could have been planning to beat him, as a reminder that he had failed him, or he may have found out about Ste's deal with Danny, but Ste didn't care. He followed the instruction, and closed the door behind him. Brendan moved slowly, taking his feet off the table, standing, stepping around the office, putting a hand on Ste's shoulder, pushing him forward so he could lean on the desk, pulling Ste's shirt from his trousers, running a hand on Ste's stomach.

Ste closed his eyes. The sensations were welcome. They penetrated his stupor - the warmth of the hand and the coldness of the air, the whisper of Brendan's breath against his neck, the roughness of Brendan's hands as they tugged on his trousers. This wasn't passion, like they had been before; there was coldness from Brendan – Ste wasn't forgiven just yet, and Ste wasn't totally there anyway, wasn't clinging and desperate and wanton like he had felt before, but it was what he needed at that moment. Brendan's hands, Brendan's breath, Brendan's cock could save his life.

When they were both sated, Brendan traced circles on Ste's back. The troubles weren't gone, the misery he felt was still rumbling within him, he still had to meet Danny Houston, he was still going to sleep with a man he had no desire for. And Ste wasn't sure if he was relieved Brendan hadn't bothered undressing him. If he had, he would have seen the bruises, the swelling. He recalled Danny's words, 'arse, face and hands' was all Danny required of him. Maybe the same was true of Brendan.

But as they both came, and both leant against the desk, Brendan's hands exploring Ste's torso under his shirt, not noticing the bruises, not finding the lumps, Ste knew instinctively that wasn't true. Brendan was holding him. He'd used sex as an excuse to comfort him. Even though Ste had hurt him, Brendan was still there.

And Ste was going to hurt him all over again.

Ste was a bad man.


	15. Chapter 15

**Totally wasn't planning on updating so soon, or so little, particularly as I had very few reviews for the last chapter. I had to force myself not to actually upload this at twenty to four in the morning in case it was utter crap, but you'll see why it had to end this chapter where it did when you read it. (Don't worry, it's not the end of this mammoth story)**

**(Also, my letter k is not working so well. Have tried to proof read, but not infallible.)**

The darkness crept slowly over Liverpool, the grey clouds that had lingered all day disappearing into a black, moonless night. Ste watched it with trepidation as he served and cleared and cleaned and served. No excuses came to mind, and neither did the courage he would need to ask Brendan for the time off. He snuck a drink in the hopes it would help him with the courage. It didn't.

He didn't look for Brendan, but he didn't avoid him either. As the evening drew on, and he realised he could wait no longer, Brendan was not near him. He had the option to go without saying a word. That would be easiest. But he didn't know what was worse about that idea – the betrayal of Brendan's trust or the chance of owing another potential violent man more money than he could pay back, though this time with no job to pay it.

He took the middle route and pulled Jacqui aside.

"I've got to go," he said, quietly with urgency, "it's Lucas."

Jacqui looked alarmed. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know," Ste answered, truthfully, "Can you let Cheryl or Brendan know I'll make up the time tomorrow."

"Ste…" Jacqui started warningly, but Ste couldn't listen to any reasoned argument against his decision now.

"Sorry, I've got to go."

And he ran, hoping no one would notice. When he reached the street he slowed to a swift, nervous walk, limping quite a bit after spending so long trying to pretend his ankle didn't hurt. His breathing was unsteady, his heart beating like a train. The address wasn't far from the waterside, and Danny was waiting outside with a dozen men. Not one of them was Sir Alexander.

"Finally decided to grace us with your presence," Danny cooed instead of a greeting.

Ste didn't think he was expected to answer so shoved his hands in his pockets and stared moodily at the ground.

"Right," Danny addressed his followers, "now her ladyship has arrived, we can get on with this thing. You lot, to the docks, make contact, get ready to unload, you three, bring the whore and come with me."

It wasn't much of a rousing, inspiring speech, especially not for Ste as he realised he was 'the whore,' but Danny's men must have been aware what was in it for them, as they went off without complaint, and the two that decided Ste needed dragging went to work with enthusiasm, despite his complaints that he could walk by himself actually.

Ste found himself dragged to Sir Alexander's business. They were emptying quickly, workers leaving for the night. They waited outside until the flow subsided, then went in with no opposition. They marched straight to Sir Alexander's office, where Ste was finally released and ignored for a moment, as Danny and his three companions used their considerable size to intimidate the businessman as he sat at his desk.

"Mr Houston," Sir Alexander greeted coldly.

"Sir Alexander," Danny replied, "you'll be pleased to hear that today is the day."

Sir Alexander grunted, "You boys move quickly."

"Well, time is money, Alex," Danny cooed.

Sir Alexander sniffed, his irritation at being addressed so informally showing clearly. "I was under the impression it would be another couple of days," he said, with understandable hesitance. Danny made no answer, just looked at Sir Alex with challenge, as though daring him to make a fuss. Sir Alex didn't. "Let's get on with it then," he said and stood, scraping his chair to illustrate his annoyance.

"Just a moment, if you will Sir Alex," Danny interrupted, "I've been hearing some very distressing things."

"Maybe you need to keep better company then," Sir Alex suggested with irony.

Danny didn't laugh, "You misunderstand me," he stated simply, "I have heard that you, Sir Alex, have met with a man known to me."

"What?" grumbled Sir Alex, though with unmistakable tension now.

"An inspector, I believe him to be."

"Nonsense," Sir Alex grunted.

"I do hope so," replied Danny, lightly, "but just in case you are considering betraying our confidences, we decided to take some precautions."

One of the men grabbed Ste's shirt.

"Oi!" Ste shouted in surprise, as the garment was pulled up. His arms were manipulated by another, lifted over his head, allowing his shirt to be pulled off. One of them then started on his trousers, as he fought and struggled.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted Sir Alexander in surprise.

"I know it is a temptation for you. If you provide the correct information tonight, guide the right people to the right place, you believe you can have said people catch us. In your mind, I suppose, that would be the same as getting us out of your life. That would be misguided, as I'm sure you'd see in the long term. For the short term, we need a guarantee that your loyalties are where they should be," Danny's voice turned suddenly from calm to irritable, "Will you stop fighting, Ste? Or do you need another reminder?"

All three men were now working on Ste's clothing and he had been struggling and clinging to his clothes, though with little success. He was now aware he was nearly naked in front of five men he'd known for days. One of the man grabbed his arm and twisted just enough for him to pause in his fight, allowing his trousers to be pulled the rest of the way off.

Danny flipped back to the calm tone he used for Sir Alex, "Should we get any unexpected visitors tonight, I can assure you that the same will happen here, where the authorities will find a naked rent boy tied to your desk."

"Christ!" hissed Sir Alexander, rubbing his head with stress.

Ste's reaction was a renewed violent struggle and a yell of "No!"

"That will be an interesting one for you to explain, now, won't it?" Danny said with a grin, ignoring Ste's response completely, "what did that writer poof get? Two years hard labour, wasn't it?"

"Danny!" Ste yelled, "you can't do this! I've got two kids! I can't go to prison, they'll end up in the workhouse!"

Danny only had eyes for Sir Alexander, as one of his associates produced rope from God knew where as they fought to pull Ste down. He tutted, "Now I don't see why that needs to happen, do you Sir Alex?" His three followers were succeeding by lifting Ste off the floor. Suddenly Ste's hands were on either side of one of the desks low legs, and held firmly in place for rope to be wound around them and tied securely. He was dropped on the cold marble floor without ceremony, in his shock he had no tears or more words. "If all goes to plan, you can look on his presence here as a reward for your hard work," continued Danny with a smile. "That and your cut, of course. Do you need a reminder of your cut, Sir Alex?"

Sir Alexander was staring, frozen, at Ste, who started to pull at his hands.

Danny casually picked up the pen on Sir Alex's desk, then grabbed Ste's hair, pushing his head down, though at a reachable height from the desk. Ste felt something sharp and wet scratch at his back, and knew Danny was writing on him.

"This," Danny said as he wrote in large digits on Ste's naked body, "is what will be waiting for you if tonight is successful. This is also what will be waiting for the police, should anything go wrong. I don't think that's a very difficult decision, do you Alex?"

"No," replied Sir Alexander, quietly.

"Good boy," replied Danny. "After you."

All four turned to leave.

"Danny!" Ste shouted, "Danny, please!"

Danny didn't even turn, "If I were you, Steven, I'd be as quiet as a mouse," he called over his shoulder, "in case anyone wants to investigate."

"Please!" Ste tried again at the retreating backs.

"I'll leave your clothes out in the hall, then," laughed one of Danny's men, taking the bundle with him. They shut the door behind them, leaving Ste cold, alone, naked and helpless.

**AN: Yes, I am actually that twisted.**

**Please review, in case I have to leave him there for months. Poor little Ste.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Wow! Thanks for the reviews guys! Loved reading them. Worked quite hard to get this chapter and the next written (didn't want to put this up if the next chapter didn't work. Still not sure the next chapter works, but going for it anyway). So hopefully the next one won't take too long.**

**Do keep the reviews coming! I love to read them. This story is a bit mammoth, still haven't started half my original ideas!**

**Enjoy!**

Ste could barely see the ropes through the tears. The room was lit by some decent gas lamps and a wood fire, but he still couldn't make out the knots enough to stand a chance. He couldn't reach them with his fingers anyway, however he twisted and turned his hands, and his teeth were making no impact at cutting or unknotting.

He tried the desk, but it was heavy. He found he could just lift it if he used both his hands under the draw, but couldn't keep it up when trying to slip his hands under the leg. Nor could he lift it with just the leg. He considered trying to smash it, but it was solid oak and very well made. And the attempt would make a lot of noise, which he hoped to avoid, having no clue how many people were still in the building.

He tried to calm himself as his breath came in shuddering gasps. He needed to think. He tugged on the rope, on his wrists. They didn't even give. The desk wouldn't move without a huge amount of noise. He was trapped. There were two ways this could end. He could be found by someone he didn't know, in which case he would be reported to the police for being a pervert, and go to prison. Or he could be found by Sir Alexander in a few hours when he'd finished whatever it was Danny wanted from him. And Sir Alexander would be expecting to fuck him. Neither sounded wonderful, but he'd take Sir Alexander over prison any day.

His heart stopped when he heard the footsteps outside the office door. They weren't a march, like Sir Alexander's would be, or purposeful like he would expect of a police officer. They were heavy and slow. The sort of footsteps that belonged to night watchmen. Someone employed to keep an eye on somewhere they believed to be empty. Someone who could open the door just to check where a light was coming from. He scrambled behind the desk, trying to hide in the footwell.

His breathing seemed so loud, through the tears and the snot and the panic. The footsteps had stopped right outside the room. And then the door creaked open.

It was too early for Sir Alexander. Maybe it was one of Danny's goons, after all, the set up had been for Sir Alexander's benefit, it didn't really matter if Ste stayed here or not. But as soon as he had that thought he realised it was stupid. It wouldn't matter to Danny if Ste was found. In fact, he'd probably find it entertaining.

He hoped that the new arrival would see an empty room and leave. If only Ste could stop breathing, stop snivelling like a child. The footsteps only paused in the doorway, before Ste was certain the visitor had stepped further into the room. This couldn't be happening. He squeezed his eyes shut, and prayed that by some miracle the newcomer would .

"What the fuck is going on?" growled a familiar voice.

Ste's eyes flew open. This was possibility number three. Brendan Brady.

"Brendan," he said, stupidly.

Brendan's eyes were wild, staring into his, and Ste wasn't sure if he was about to die or not.

"I was following Danny Houston," Brendan stated coldly, "and then I find you." He put his head to one side, "A thief and a…"

"No!" Ste said firmly, "I'm not!"

"If I've got my local knowledge down, Steven, this is the office of Sir Alexander Carmichael, a fat aristocrat with a reputation for a taste in boys like you," Brendan pushed in a stony tone Ste suspected covered a huge amount of anger.

"I'm tied to the desk, Brendan," Ste snapped, "Do you think I wanna be here?"

"Last time I saw you, you were fully clothed and working in my club. Danny kidnap ye, did he? Shoved you in a sack and put a magic spell on ye that made your clothes disappear?"

That was so unfair. "I borrowed money from him to pay for Lucas's doctor!" Ste nearly shouted.

"I paid for Lucas's doctor! You filthy…"

"But Danny wouldn't take it back! Look at me, Brendan."

Brendan's hate filled eyes flickered over Ste's body. Ste pushed himself out of the hole in the desk, trying to display his bruises. Brendan snorted at the sight. His eyes still burned with anger, and Ste wondered if getting back in the foot well would protect him from the worst of Brendan's beating. "I'm sorry," Ste tried.

"You're sorry?" Brendan hissed, "You're always fucking sorry."

Ste agreed. He'd used that word more than any other since he arrived in the city. "I never meant to betray ya," he mumbled.

"Betray me?" shouted Brendan, and he grabbed Ste's leg and pulled him away from the desk. Ste ended up flat on his back, arms over his head still tied to the desk, and Brendan Brady straddling his body, "I've known you three days, how can you betray me?"

Brendan had tears in his eyes. Ste wasn't sure if they were anger of shame, and he was helpless naked on the floor. Betray was the wrong word, wasn't it? How could he owe Brendan loyalty after days?

But they both knew betrayal was the right word, and it had nothing to do with the money for Lucas.

"He knows where I live," Ste pleaded, "he knows where I work, he knows about me kids. There were five of them at my house last night, and three of 'em tied me up just now, and he didn't even have to lift a finger. What was I supposed to do Brendan?"

Brendan still looked ready to kill him. The hatred in his eyes could have burnt Ste with its intensity, and for a long moment pictures of the awful things he could do to Ste flew through Ste's mind. He was asking for pity from a man who'd threatened to drown him.

A scraping told him the desk was moving. He looked around in surprise. Brendan had lifted it just enough for him to get his arms out. He did so with speed and gratitude. "Come on," mumbled Brendan.

He didn't untie Ste's hands, just helped him to stand then pushed him gently to the door.

"Jesus," Brendan whispered, "is that how much you cost? You could get a dozen prossies for that."

Ste blushed and tried to hide his back without the use of his hands, "No!" he snapped, "it's Sir Alexander's cut of whatever their up to."

"Really?" replied Brendan lightly.

"Er, have you seen my clothes?" Ste asked nervously. Brendan grunted but located them just outside the door. Ste realised Brendan wasn't going to untie his hands when the Irishman bent to pull the trousers on for him. His trepidation returning, Ste allowed himself to be dressed. Brendan wrapped the shirt around Ste's shoulders, then wrapped his own coat around Ste.

Ste lifted his hands to Brendan, "Can you…?" he started.

"No," replied Brendan, "walk quickly, and do not look at anyone."

Ste did as he was told. Wherever Brendan was taking him couldn't be worse than what he'd just escaped. Brendan steered him through the streets with a hand between his shoulders. Ste used his fingers to keep the coat closed over him. There were not many people on the streets in the darkness, but Ste stared at the ground anyway in case people were looking at him.

Brendan took him back to the club. Ste didn't really know why, but he wasn't going to argue. He guided him up the stairs, past a very confused looking Jacqui, who uncharacteristically held her tongue, and all the way up to the Greek room which was empty. The gas lamps were still lit, filling the room with their warm glow and casting soft shadows in corners. Ste could hear people downstairs on their ways home. Brendan slammed the door behind them.

"Sit," he ordered, and when Ste obeyed, stayed standing, solid as a statue, and added: "Tell me everything I don't know about you and Danny Houston."

So Ste talked. He cut bits of the story, making it sound like he'd happened to bump into Danny when Danny had given him the money, how he'd felt unable to say no, though he'd got home to find that Brendan had paid. He told the truth after that though, about them waiting at his home after he'd failed to show up, about the beating, about having to meet Danny tonight, about being stripped and left.

Brendan's face was unreadable. It was far from blank, like Danny's could be. The emotions were abundant, but Ste could not recognise what they were.

"But why?" Brendan asked, quietly, "why tie you naked to a desk?"

"Danny said he knew Sir Alexander had gone to a copper. He said I was a 'guarantee of his loyalties'."

"How?" asked Brendan, with curiosity.

"He said if the police showed up where they were working, another would turn up where I was, and Sir Alexander would probably be arrested, and everyone would know."

"So… the only thing that's stopping the posh bastard going to the police is the belief that you're tied naked to his desk."

"I guess," said Ste, nervously.

"Which you're not."

"No…" Ste confirmed, though that was obvious. "But… Brendan, if I'm not there when Danny goes back…" Ste's mouth felt dry at the thought. If he wasn't there, Danny would kill him. He was of no further use to Danny now the deal, whatever it was, was done. In fact, death would be the easy way out. The man knew where Amy and the kids were. "I've gotta go back."

Brendan glared at him, "You want to sleep with him?"

"No!" cried Ste, "but if I don't… God knows what Danny'll do!"

"You're not going anywhere," Brendan stated.

"But…" Ste started, and then Brendan started for the door. Ste had felt like this already today. "No!" he shouted and jumped up, but Brendan was already out of the room and closing the door behind him. Ste went straight for the knob, which was hard to manoeuvre with his hands tied, but even when he managed it, the turn had no effect. Brendan had locked it from the outside. "Brendan!" Ste shouted uselessly at the door. "Brendan, he'll kill me! Please!"

But he could already hear the footsteps disappearing back down the steps. Brendan was going to make him anger Danny. Maybe he was trying to hurt Ste as Ste had hurt him. But this was worse. Ste hadn't actually hurt Brendan, he just hadn't told him everything.

Brendan was feeding Ste to the wolves.

**AN: Agh! Thoughts? Feelings? Gone off it yet? Review please! x**


	17. Chapter 17

**Blown away again by your reviews! Thanks so much everyone! Please keep them coming, they make all the hours I've spent going mad writing on my own worth it.**

**This chapter should come with a darkness warning. Warning: Darkness. And some light. As Brendan does so well. Enjoy!**

To Ste, it felt like an age stuck in the Greek room. The fact the place had felt somehow special to him added to his feeling of betrayal. Images of Brendan stalking up to him, kissing him, fucking him, introducing him to another world of pleasure haunted this room for Ste. The figures on the walls, telling stories of love and deceit mocked him. Brendan Brady had decided he should die.

Maybe, if Brendan was the kind of man who saved Lucas, then maybe he'd also look after Amy and Leah. None of this was their fault, after all. Surely he wouldn't let Danny take his revenge upon them.

But why would he care? He'd shown that tonight. This was the warning. Ste could not rely on anyone but himself.

He let the shirt and coat drop to the floor and went behind the bar to find a glass. He couldn't care less how expensive it was as he broke it. He stood the remains of the base on the bar, the jagged edges pointing up, and started sawing at the rope on his wrists. Strand by strand, the threads frayed and snapped, though his wrists quickly became casualties too. He had no choice. He needed to run, he needed to get them all out of Liverpool.

He would have to take Lucas out of the hospital. He wondered if they would try to stop him. Surely there was no law that people had to stay in hospital once they were in there. Ste stopped sawing, and stared at his hands. Blood was pooling on his wrists now. Could he take Lucas, and risk him dying? He'd seemed better, but he could have a lot of healing to do.

Maybe Danny would only try to hurt Ste. Maybe he had no interest in the children or Amy. Ste was not going to risk his son's life just to save his own sorry neck.

Ste picked up the glass he'd been using and threw it across the room in frustration. It hit the wall opposite, but with his hands still tied together, there wasn't much strength to the throw and it made very little impact.

Maybe, if he threw himself on Brendan's mercy. Even more than he already had. He could offer his body, which seemed to be enough for Sir Alexander. But the last few days was proof enough that Brendan wasn't just after his body. The fury at Ste's betrayal, this attempt to hurt him. There was a physical attraction between them, a desire for each other sexually, but they both knew it was more than that. But whatever it was, Ste had turned it to hatred already. Brendan might let Danny do whatever he wanted, just to get back at Ste.

Ste gave up. He let himself fall into a chair, hands still bound. He sat like that for an hour, not moving except for sobs. He only looked up when he heard the footsteps on the stairs. It had to be Brendan returning. He jumped up, darted to where the glass lay smashed and grabbed the largest shard. He cut his fingers and his lips as he tried to put it between his teeth to saw at his hands.

Brendan opened the door and stepped through, expression blank. Ste stared at him a moment, ceasing his pathetic attempts to get the ropes off of him. He spat out the glass and shouted "You bastard!"

Brendan closed the door and leaned back on it. "Aren't you going to ask you where I've been?"

Ste ignored him, "Do you know what you've done? You've put my whole family in danger! If Danny doesn't kill them, or worse, they'll end up in the workhouse!"

Brendan looked at him blankly, "And I should care because…?"

Ste almost exploded with anger. "You bastard, you evil, pathetic bastard!" He continued; calling Brendan every name under the sun, aware that Brendan had left the door and was now stalking towards him, but didn't stop the rant. The knife did though.

Brendan pulled it out of his pocket when he was just yards from Ste. It was a flick knife, about two inches long, and it made Ste's blood run cold. He took an involuntary step backwards. Brendan didn't stop as Ste put his arms out in front, trying to keep Brendan away. "Stay back," Ste said, with no strength behind the words. Brendan ignored the words, and took the arms, eyes glued on Ste's. He smirked before he cut the chords on Ste's hands, and then put the knife back into his pocket.

Ste felt the fury return. He threw the remnants of the rope onto the floor. "What, you're not even gonna do it yourself, you're gonna let Danny do it for ya?!"

"What are you wittering on about now?" Brendan said dismissively.

"Oh, it's all a joke to you, isn't it?" Ste snarled, "Danny will have found out I left, now, and then he'll kill me. He knows where I live Brendan! And I can't take Lucas out of hospital, so I can't even run! Do you know what will happen to Amy and the kids?"

"Yeah, you already shouted that!"

Ste saw red, "You…" he threw a punch. It caught Brendan on the cheek, and in his thrill of fear, Ste threw another, but Brendan caught that one, and grabbed the other arm too. And he was much stronger than Ste. He shoved him down and Ste found himself flat on his back on the floor with a furious Brendan straddling him for the second time that evening.

"Will you fucking listen?" Brendan cried, "He's not coming after you."

Ste blinked, heart beating with fear, adrenaline, and a little bit of something else. "What?"

"Danny's not going to hurt you," Brendan clarified, though Ste could still not take it in.

"How do you know?"

"Because he's a bit busy with the cops right now."

Ste stared, open mouthed, not sure if he should be relieved or terrified. "You went to the police?"

Brendan grinned, "Nope," he said, obviously pleased with himself, "Just bumped into a certain chubby aristocrat as he was waiting on the dock, let him do what he wanted once he was in full knowledge of the situation. I wonder what Danny'll get for blackmail, smuggling, kidnap…"

"Are you serious?" Ste asked with awe.

"Well, Carmichael will probably be keeping the subject blackmail to himself, so I suppose the kidnap is not going to be mentioned, but the rest…"

Ste imagined it. "He's got followers…"

"And I watched a lot of running and a bit of fighting, and whole bunch of people getting arrested. Danny ain't the sort of guy people want to follow. They're scared of him, but if he's inside…"

Brendan let the sentence hang in the air again, but Ste was not convinced. "They know where I live, Brendan."

Brendan frowned, "Who says I'm letting you out of here?"

Ste's heart thrilled again. He wasn't sure if it was a threat or a flirt.

"You've behaved very badly, Steven," Brendan continued, face close to Ste's, voice barely above a whisper, "I'm not sure I can trust you outside of the building."

Ste pushed against Brendan's restraining hands. They didn't give in the slightest. "Are you being serious?" he asked, breathily.

Brendan smirked again, "What do you think?"

Ste started the kiss without even thinking about it. It was exactly the wrong moment. His heart was racing with fear, and he still didn't know if Brendan was being serious or not. Brendan didn't really kiss him back, and it didn't take long for Ste to let his head fall back.

Brendan's expression was not happy. "That what you do, is it? Fuck people to get what you want?"

"No!" Ste exclaimed.

"Like a proper little whore," Brendan growled, a curl of disgust to his mouth.

"No!" Ste shouted.

"Don't care who it is, do ye?"

"Get off of me!" Ste cried.

"No," replied Brendan, and kissed him violently.

Ste wasn't sure whether to fight or kiss him back. Would kissing back prove him right? Show Brendan he was a whore. But as Brendan took both his wrists in one hand, running the other down his side, Ste lost the ability to protest. He needed Brendan, in a stupid, pathetic way that he should never ever cave to, and showed it with his lips and groans.

Brendan broke the kiss to strip Ste of the rest of his clothes. Ste helped him urgently, then went for Brendan's. Brendan pulled his shirt off and undid his own trousers, kissed Ste again, then turned him over onto his front.

And froze.

Ste looked back over his shoulder, desperate to feel more of Brendan's body. Brendan was staring at his back. The figures Danny had written on him.

"I never slept with him," Ste said. Brendan hadn't asked, but Ste was desperate for him to know that. "I swear, he never touched me."

Brendan continued to stare, while Ste's breathing calmed and his beginning of an erection flagged. When Brendan spoke, his voice was a gravelly whisper. "I threw Macca out on his arse for a fraction of this."

Ste started to turn over, not sure if he was going to complain, or run or try to kiss him again. Brendan stopped him with one hand on his shoulder, and continued. "I beat the shit out of him for less than that."

Taking that as a prediction of what was about to happen, Ste tried to get out of Brendan's hands, but Brendan gripped his shoulder. His other arm grabbed one of Ste's, and pulled it behind his back and upwards. Ste gasped at the sudden pain.

"If you ever try anything like this again, I will break this arm, do you understand?" Brendan growled, sounding like an furious animal.

"Yes!" Ste gasped.

"If you fuck anyone else, if you lie to me, or steal from me…"

"I won't, I swear!" Ste cried.

"I know," Brendan replied, and suddenly let go of his arm. Ste felt Brendan's hard cock at his opening, and despite the threats and the arm twisting, he still wanted Brendan inside him. "Want me to stop?" Brendan asked, coldly.

"No," Ste hissed, interest fully renewed, and, with minimal preparation, Brendan entered him in one sift moment and fucked him furiously. It was anything but loving, but Ste needed it. It was like the violence cleansed them both, took them back to the beginning, before Ste did all those stupid things. He cried Brendan's name as he came, and felt Brendan behind him, gripping his hips and coming inside him. He could feel Brendan's ragged breathing against his neck before Brendan rolled to his side, closing his eyes, though his face was towards Ste.

The temptation to close the gap was strong for Ste. He leaned towards the Irishman, craning his neck, and touched his lips to Brendan's. Brendan didn't pull away this time, but he didn't exactly kiss him back either. The kiss came to a natural end, leaving Ste feeling a little sad and lonely. Brendan ran a hand through Ste's hair, then stood, redoing his trousers and picking up his shirt.

"Come on then," he said.

Ste stood and found his own clothes from where they had been discarded around the room. Once he was dressed, Brendan gave him a piece of paper.

He looked at it, feeling there had been far too much writing in the past few days, when Ste found reading so difficult, and found more than an address. It took him a while to read it, even in the good light from the lamps. He frowned at it.

"It's an advert," he said, "for a job."

"Yep," Brendan replied, "And I didn't even write it."

"House keeper and man servant," he read aloud with a question.

"She even wants a couple."

"You mean…" Ste said slowly, "you think me and Amy should take these jobs…"

"Full board. Amy'd have to keep the kids out of the way, of course, but it will stop you saying 'he knows where I live Brendan'. That's getting boring now."

Ste looked at the paper. "I can't make out the signature." He stared, it seemed to be Brady, but Brendan had said she, "Is it Cheryl?" There was more than sadness at the idea of not working for Brendan anymore.

"No," said Brendan, "that's Eileen," he leant forward and whispered like it was a secret, "She's my wife."

**To the guest who got excited about the bondage, sorry! I'll keep it in mind though! My other series has a little, though mostly implied.**

**To everyone else, and that guess, please review! x**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Promised myself I wouldn't update at midnight again in case I do stupid things with the plot. Fail.**

**Enjoy!**

"But he's never even met me," Amy repeated for the fifth time. "And he just offered me a job?"

"Well, he's offered _us _an interview," Ste corrected, "but I think we've got it."

"But why, though?" Amy asked, and it was probably a reasonable question, though Ste couldn't give an honest answer.

"Well, he's probably impressed with my work ethic, or something," Ste lied.

Amy frowned, as though that were doubtful.

"Er, I've worked well hard, actually," Ste informed her.

"I know you have," Amy assured him, "it's just… odd, isn't it?"

"Dunno," Ste replied. It probably did seem weird, particularly as Amy hadn't been awake all night listening for intruders and clutching a chair leg. She had no idea the danger they could be in if they stayed where they were, or that Brendan had an interest in keeping Ste alive and healthy. Or at least able to shag.

But it was still completely mad. Was Brendan expecting it to be easier to shag with his own wife and Amy around? Ste wondered if he'd thought that far ahead. Brendan did seem to think getting Danny and even Warren put away was the same as getting them out of the way. Even Ste saw the problem with that.

Ste and Amy arrived at a beautiful town house. Steps led up to a solid brick building going three floors up with wide square windows. There were similar houses on each side, all four times the size of the cottage Ste grew up in, (and they had shared that with more than one family). Did Brendan have this place all to himself?

"This it, do you think?" asked Amy.

"Er…" said Ste, checking the advert yet again, trying to find the address.

The door was suddenly flung open. A couple dressed in black with faces like bull dogs stormed out looking shocked. The woman was almost hysterical. "I would not work for that man for all the jewels in Christendom!" she cried, loudly.

A short, brunette woman dressed very fashionably followed them out, "Please, Mrs Jones, he's hardly ever here anyway, really…"

"You have my sympathy, madam," interrupted the man, calmer than his wife, but with an quiet anger, "Your husband is completely mad."

"Yep, this is the right place," said Ste.

The couple marched past Ste and Amy without giving them any attention. Ste decided to let Amy do the talking.

"Mrs Brady?" she asked, politely, and when the lady nodded, added "we're here about the advertisement."

Eileen Brady looked them both up and down. The look on her face showed Ste that she was not impressed by what she saw.

"Well, you'd best come in then," she said, unenthusiastically.

Amy and Ste followed her into the house, and then into a rather empty looking room. Eileen sat on a chair and indicated a sofa currently covered in a dust sheet. "Sit," she said, sternly.

Ste and Amy obeyed, nervously.

"You seem very young," Eileen began, "you are married?"

Amy hesitated, as she always did when that question arose. Ste answered so she didn't have to lie. "Yes, Mrs Brady."

"And have you any experience?" she asked doubtfully.

"Not really," Amy replied, (though Ste had had another lie ready; (there hadn't been anything in Brendan's threats about lying to his wife. In fact Ste thought it would be expected,) "but we're both very hard working, and have kept our own home, of course."

Eileen did not look convinced. She peered out of the window, as though hoping to see more applicants out there. Ste glanced there too, and was relieved that the street was empty.

"Erm, I'm Ste and this is Amy," Ste offered, then added "Hay."

Footsteps in the hall distracted him. Eileen too seemed to be put off by them, though her expression became one of irritation. "Please excuse me," she said, and stood hurriedly and walked through the door. A deep voice from the other side of the door could be heard.

"What's going on? One minute we're interviewing in the room with the table, now it's the one with the sofa?"

Eileen's hissed reply was, nevertheless, also clear, "Brendan, you have scared off enough people already, will you … just… just…fuck off!"

Amy squeaked in surprise. Ste bit back a laugh.

"Eileen!" Mock-gasped Brendan.

Brendan marched into the room, Eileen on his heels with arms crossed, "I must apologise for my wife;" Brendan said instead of a greeting, "she has been finding her attempted entrance into society very stressful."

"That's because my husband keeps frightening off the servants!" Eileen nearly growled at him.

Brendan grinned, "Have I frightened you two off?" he asked Ste and Amy.

Amy looked ready to say 'yes' but Ste replied with a more confident than he felt "No."

"Good," Brendan replied, "you're hired."

"Brendan!" objected Eileen, while Amy sat in open shock, and Ste wondered just how many applicants Brendan had 'scared off'.

"Problem, Eileen?" Brendan asked lightly.

"They've got no experience, no references…" Eileen protested

"Well, you've got no experience of having servants," replied Brendan, dismissively, "so you can learn together."

"That's not how it works, Brendan…"

"How do you know? And Steven has references, I'm his reference, he's been working at the club."

Eileen turned to stare at Ste. "A bar man?!"

"Yes," replied Brendan icily, "and you're the daughter of a butcher, stop pretending to be landed gentry. It's my money paying for this house, I get to chose who works in it, and I choose them."

The Bradys had open contempt for each other as they argued, their words heavy with irritation. Ste suspected they hadn't slept together for a long time. He felt quite relieved at the thought.

Eileen was not giving up, "But they won't know what to do, Brendan!"

"Amy, ever cooked before?" Brendan demanded.

"Yeah," Amy replied, glancing at Ste.

"Cleaned?"

"Of course."

"I'd ask Steven if he's ever cleaned or served a drink, but I've seen him do both, Eileen. They're fine."

"And what if we have company? I bet they don't have a clue about laying a table for…"

"What, for all your posh friends? All those ladies who are queuing up to invite you for tea?" Brendan was taking no prisoners, "get over it, Eileen, you ain't a lady."

Eileen looked furious and embarrassed, but kept quiet after that. Brendan decided to ignore her and continued, addressing Ste and Amy, "There's a kitchen and a pantry downstairs, and some sleeping quarters for you at the top. Keep the place clean and us fed and don't piss my wife off too much and you can stay. Eileen, why don't you show Amy where everything is, and I'll take Steven."

He walked out without another word, and Ste only spared Amy one quick glance to be certain she wasn't completely terrified, before he ran after Brendan, following him up the stairs.

Brendan was pointing at the doors on the next two floors "My room, Eileen's room, nursery, though fuck knows why we need a nursery, the boys' room, though you'll only have to worry about them during the holidays. Come on."

He strode easily up another flight of stairs, right up to the top of the house to where the ceilings slanted with the roof. There were three rooms, small but perfectly comfortable. Brendan walked through the door to one of them. "These are yours," he said, then pulled Ste into a kiss. Ste kissed back, and when Brendan's tongue demanded entry, met it with challenge. When Brendan's hands ran down his sides he pulled away.

"Eileen and Amy are downstairs," he whispered.

"So?" Brendan replied, "they never stopped existing the other times."

"I mean they might walk in," argued Ste.

Brendan smirked at him, "Cocky shit, ain't ye? Think you're that irresistible that one kiss and I'll be tearing your clothes off."

Ste blushed, "No…"

Brendan nipped at his lips, "Well, you're not far off."

Ste blushed deeper as Brendan brought their lips together again, and pushed him back against the door. "Here's a strange new invention for ye, Steven," Brendan whispered into the kiss. "Locks…" Ste heard a click in the door behind him and grinned.

"You're the boss," he whispered.

"The boss," Brendan repeated with a grin, "I'm master now," he said, as his hands found Ste's waist, "isn't that what all the proper servants call their employers?" His lips touched Ste's ears as he whispered "Master."

Ste snorted. "You want me to call you master?"

Brendan's laugh was a whisper as he moved his lips down Ste's throat, "What, you got a problem with that, boy?"

"I ain't calling you master," Ste protested.

"I thought you liked that power stuff," Brendan breathed against his neck, "you like an aristocrat, don't ye?"

That stung. Ste pushed him off.

"What?" Brendan asked with surprise.

"This is a bad idea," Ste said, finally realising it for himself.

"What? Why?" cried Brendan, scowling.

"Because you see me as a …"

Brendan's frown deepened, "As a what?"

"As a whore!" Ste cried.

Brendan grunted, "Steven, you wanted to sleep with a man for money. I think that's the definition of a whore."

"I didn't _want _to sleep with him!" replied Ste, furiously.

"Exactly, Steven, you do it for profit!"

Ste felt like he'd been punched in the face. He'd not seen this coming. He'd understood Brendan's anger and betrayal at the lies and the theft, but this was something else. Hearing Brendan speak of him like that brought an ache to Ste's chest. It almost stopped the anger coming through. Almost.

"You know what?" he hissed, " I would have slept with a thousand fat aristocrats if it was the difference between Lucas, my son, living or dying."

Brendan grunted. It sounded like a denial, so Ste continued.

"Or to save my life and so my family can keep their home? Yeah, that too!" He prodded a finger at Brendan's chest, "but I have never once slept with you for any reason except I wanted to, not once!" He turned to the door, putting his hand on the key, "and this isn't about helping me out when I'm in danger, or even getting your wife some servants, this is about you controlling me."

Ste unlocked the door and stepped out. Brendan's words stopped him.

"Are you quitting?"

"You know I can't," Ste replied, sadly.

Brendan sniffed, "Good," he said, though Ste wasn't sure what was good about it. He glanced back at Brendan whose face was back to his mask. It had to be indifference, didn't it? Because anything else was ridiculous.

Ste found his own way back down the stairs, where Eileen was striding in the room with the sofa and dust sheets. "Er, have you seen Amy, Mrs Brady?"

Eileen glared at him. "Where did he take you?"

Ste hoped he wasn't looking guilty, "Just the rooms in the attic for us." He hoped he didn't flush, "I mean, for me and Amy and…"

Eileen interrupted, clearly not interested beyond that. She had more important things on her mind. "Why did he employ you?"

The truth was impossible, "Er… because he thought I worked well?" Ste tried.

"Hmm," hummed Eileen, doubtfully, "Amy says you only worked there a couple of days."

Shit, thought Ste, "Well, I'm memorable, me."

"Right," said Eileen, leaving no doubt that she knew nothing was 'right' about it. "And had he met Amy before?"

"Er," Ste thought on his feet, knowing he mustn't let Eileen get suspicious if this was going to work, "Yeah, he came to ours a couple of days ago. Our son wasn't well, and…"

"Were you there?"

The question came from nowhere, and Eileen's expression was still so formidable. Did she suspect Brendan of fancying Ste or not? "No, I was …" trying to sleep with a aristocrat for money was not going to help right now, "at work…?"

Eileen's expression turned almost insane, and she took in a harsh breath. "I knew it!" she hissed, and she stormed out of the room.

Ste looked around himself, confused. She knew what? Presumably not that Ste and Brendan were sleeping together, or Ste would no doubt be very unemployed, potentially with no eyeballs.

He found some stairs at the back of the house that went down. They had to lead to the kitchen that Brendan had mentioned. Maybe Amy would be down there. Ste trotted down them, though listening for screeches of Brady argument that never came.

Amy was sat at a table, looking terrified.

"Alright?" he greeted.

She jumped up. "Ste," she gasped, "we can't work here."

"Why?" Ste asked surprised.

"Because Brendan is completely mad, and only employing us to wind his wife up. Eileen is a stuck up cow who thinks we aren't good enough, we do not know what the hell we are doing here, and…"

"He's not mad," Ste protested, "he's just… a bit odd."

Amy almost laughed, "And Eileen?"

"She'll get used to it," Ste replied, uncertainly, "We'll be great, won't we?"

Amy glared at him, "Ste, can you not see what's going on here?"

Ste frowned. He was pretty sure he knew more about what was going on here than Amy did. Amy took the look as a sign of Ste's ignorance and continued. "Eileen was asking me all about why Brendan was doing this."

"Yeah," said Ste, "she was asking me the same…"

"Ste!" Amy interrupted, "Eileen thinks Brendan's having an affair."

Ste blanched, "What?"

Amy leaned forward and lowered her voice. "With me."

**AN: Please take the time to review! It makes my day. I squeal at them sometimes... x**


	19. Chapter 19

When Ste, admittedly without explanation, refused to leave the Brady household, Amy announced she would refuse to leave the kitchen. Ste thought this was petty, as he nervously picked up Leah from an increasingly curious Jacqui. He was watchful the whole way there and back, and Leah's obvious excitement at a new, big home was slightly contagious, even though Ste explained she couldn't just go anywhere in it.

He realised he hadn't managed to mention either of his children to Eileen, and he wondered if there would be an issue. More issues. Beyond the fact he was sleeping with her husband. And that she believed Amy was sleeping with her husband. And that he had no clue what he was doing.

They'd discovered a back door to Brendan's home, through a small yard that lead to an alley. People who looked much more like servants could be found here, going about business with purpose, while flirting and gossiping and complaining. Ste hoped they still hadn't noticed him.

He passed a stand selling newspapers. He'd never thought of buying one before, knowing it was a waste of money when he would only struggle to read it, but something about the face that stared up at him from the front page of that paper made him freeze. He bought it, with money he knew he shouldn't have spared, but he needed to know what was happening. Leah looked at him strangely and asked him why. He brushed it off as best he could.

Ste decided to avoid Brendan when he got back, and went straight to Amy in the kitchen. She had started cooking, maybe hoping that a full belly would be enough to stop Eileen hating her. Ste wasn't convinced, so as soon as he'd found something for Leah to play with (a saucepan that looked pretty indestructible but not so heavy it could hurt her, that instantly became a knight's helmet) he put the newspaper on the table, and tried to calm down.

Amy stirred whatever it was on a pot on the stove and then came to the table. "What have you bought a paper for?" she asked.

"Er, could you, er," Ste started, trying to sound like it wasn't a matter of life and death, "could you tell me what it says?"

Amy sat and picked up the paper, "Why?" she asked, "you've never asked me to do that before."

"Just…" how much could he admit? "That bloke, I think I recognise him."

"Where from?" she asked with a frown. Why did she have to be so suspicious of everything today?

"The club, Amy, what does it say?"

Amy must have accepted it, as she read it through. "It says a gang's been arrested for smuggling and blackmail."

Ste had figured that, "What else?"

"Er…" Amy's eyes flew through the paper. Ste wondered how she did that, it would have taken him this long to read the headline, "they've not been sentenced, but this guy, Houston, he seems to be the leader."

"Oh," Ste replied. That was a waste of money, then. Of course they hadn't been sentenced, it had been less than a day.

"Oh, they killed a policeman!" Amy gasped suddenly.

"What?" Someone had died?

"They knocked him off one of the docks and they couldn't find him in the dark," Amy told him, "not that guy Houston, one of his followers."

"Oh, God," Ste replied, shocked. Something like that could have been an accident, but would it be something extra Danny might hold against Ste if one of his gang were hung for murder? He needed to talk to Brendan. "Er, I'll be back in a bit…" he said

"Where you going now?" Amy demanded in shock, but Ste didn't answer. He darted up the stairs into the main body of the house.

"Brendan?" he called.

He got no response, so he checked some of the rooms, all of them were empty, so he tried the floor above. "Brendan?" he called.

"Steven," replied a voice, "Come in here please."

It was Eileen, and she sounded strained. Ste glanced around, hoping Brendan was going to appear so he wouldn't have to answer, but when no such interruption came, he had no choice but to open the door to Eileen's room.

Eileen's bedroom.

She was sat at a dresser, looking at herself in a mirror, her auburn hair loose about her shoulders. She brushed it slowly, smoothly, then looked at Ste over her shoulder.

"Er, are you alright?" he asked.

Eileen's back stiffened for a moment, Ste assumed with disgust at his lack of servant-like qualities, but she hid it quickly enough, and ran a finger down her neck.

"I need your help, Steven," she said quietly.

"Right," said Ste, awaiting instructions, wondering if it was OK to ask to be called Ste.

She swept her hair to one side, "I cannot reach these buttons," she said, one hand in her hair, she allowed the other to fall to her waist, level with the buttons on her back that she probably could reach if she tried.

"Er…" said Ste, "I'll go and fetch Amy."

"No!" she replied in a rush, "they're… stiff. They need a man's strength."

Ste wrinkled his nose. How could buttons get stiff?

"Er, OK," he said, anyway, though he could see her undergarments. Maybe that was normal for servants. The buttons took a few seconds, except Eileen's kept moving backwards, closer to him so he couldn't see what he was doing. "There you go," he said when he was done.

"Thank you, Steven," she said, turning and giving him a shy smile.

"It's alright," he replied, "er, is Brendan around?"

"He went to work," she replied, as though it was insignificant, but added, "he won't be back for hours," as though that were somehow something special.

"Oh," said Ste, "I'll better get back to…"

"Could you… help me with… my… shoes?" Eileen interrupted him, breathlessly.

"Er," Ste replied, "are you sure you wouldn't prefer I send up Amy?"

"Quite sure," she replied, "the blue ones, in the cupboard, they go with this."

Ste walked over to the cupboard, and found a few pairs of shoes, one of which were a similar blue to Eileen's dress. When he turned back to Eileen, she'd stood up and leaned back against the dresser, staring at him. Which was weird.

"These ones?" he asked.

"Those are perfect, Steven," she replied.

He brought them over and held them out to her. She looked down. "Could you…" she prompted, and then lifted her skirts, just enough to show her slim stockinged foot.

"You're the boss," Ste replied, and knelt down to slip the shoe onto her foot, wondering if this was normal for posh people. When he was done, she lifted her other foot, though this time pushed it gently against Ste's chest. He tried his best not to fall over, and jumped up as soon as he'd got the shoe on her.

"Er, thanks," he said, stupidly, and basically ran from the room, wondering if he'd run away from a mad man to live with and work for a mad woman.

Amy had finished the food when he arrived, and had put some in a bowl for Leah who was tucking in happily. "Smells great," Ste said, and it was true. There was no shortage of food at the Brady's.

"Where do you think Mrs Brady wants to eat?" Amy asked, nervously.

"I dunno," Ste replied, grabbing bowls for himself and Amy.

"Well, could you ask her?" Amy snapped.

"No," Ste replied, quickly and with certainty.

"Go on, Ste, she hates me!" pleaded Amy.

"But she's insane!" Ste protested, "She tried to knock me over with her foot!"

"What?"

And Ste described everything that Eileen had just done. Amy looked at him, listening, silently, her eyes the size of saucepans. "Bloody hell," she breathed when he was finished, then laughed, then gasped, then rubbed her face.

Ste could not understand her reaction. "Mad, innit?" he said, "she's a nutter."

"Ste, she…" Amy started and laughed again.

"What?" Ste demanded, annoyed.

Amy stopped laughing, and looked at him seriously, biting her lip and looking a bit anxious, "Ste, she thinks I'm sleeping with Brendan, right?"

"So you say," Ste replied doubtfully.

"So, she wants to get back at me."

Ste scrunched up his nose, how was making Ste put her shoes on getting back at Amy?

"How can you not get it?" Amy cried, incredulously.

"Because women are weird," Ste replied, finding some cups, and wondering what to fill them with.

"Ste, she's trying to seduce you!"

Ste almost dropped the cups.

**AN: Reviews are always appreciated. The next chapter should have Brendan in it, but I'll need encouragement to get it done!**

**(Thanks to everyone who's taken the time already! It means a lot!)**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: So another short one, but a few people complained about the lack of Brendan in the last one, so thought I'd just get this out. As always, thanks to everyone who took time to review! **

**Enjoy.**

Ste, Amy and Leah all went to see Lucas that day. Ste promised Amy he'd let Eileen know, but as she hadn't bothered speaking to any of them since lunch, and he didn't particularly want to see her again either, he didn't. He left a message on the kitchen table instead, in case she did come looking for either of them.

Lucas was sitting up in bed, looking pale and lonely. He didn't cry this time, but he didn't really look like he was expecting them either, and Ste wondered how much he'd been told about how the time here worked. As Amy approached, lifting her arms to him, he lifted his and allowed her to hug him.

Nurse Collins passed them, and smiled kindly. Ste smiled back, and she had a quick look around before going over and whispering, "The doctor thinks the infection is passing. And he's been such a brave little boy!" then darted off. Sister Grace passed by a few moments later, but she didn't stop. She looked at Amy coldly and almost glared at Ste.

"Hey little man," Ste greeted, "how are you feeling?"

Lucas grumbled against Amy's shoulder, and Ste decided to take that as good news – if Lucas had grumbled at him a couple of days ago he would have rejoiced.

It was difficult to talk to Lucas – they tried to get him to tell them about what it had been like in the hospital, but he wasn't saying much. Ste and Amy told him about their new home, and how nice it was, and when they were told to leave, Lucas tried to cling to Amy. They were all in tears by the time they'd left the hospital, and Ste put an arm around Amy's shoulders while she held Leah against her body as they walked back to the Brady's house.

There was a lot to do when they got back; buying supplies, cleaning, cooking, and Ste and Amy managed to more or less avoid Eileen who had taken to sewing in the room with the sofas.

Brendan arrived home in the early evening. Eileen didn't greet him. She simply started, in a voice loud enough for Ste and Amy to hear from downstairs.

"Why are you back now?"

"And greetings to you, darling wife," Brendan chimed.

"Don't give me that," snapped Eileen, "you're never back before midnight!"

"Right," Brendan replied, "'Cause no one ever closed a club on a weeknight before."

"Not you!" Eileen snarled.

"Well, there's a first time for everything Eileen," Brendan retorted and then shouted "Steven!"

Ste rushed up the stairs, and found the Bradys standing at opposite sides of the room with the sofas. "Any chance of some food, Steven?" Brendan asked, without emotion.

"Course," Ste replied, "er, where?"

"The dining room, Steven," Eileen replied, turning to Ste and giving him a bright smile, "thank you, you've done a great job today."

"Er," said Ste, uncertainly, "I'll go check with Amy."

He turned and left the room, but heard the tail end of the Brady conversation.

"He did a great job today, did he?" Brendan asked.

"Oh yes," Eileen cooed, "he's a lovely fella. And pretty too, don't you think?"

A small growl escaped Brendan, and Ste ran the rest of the way downstairs.

"They want dinner," Ste hissed at Amy.

"It's OK Ste, I'm sorted," Amy replied, "Put all that on the table, then come back down for the rest."

Ste could have kissed her. He picked up the tray, laden with plates and cutlery, and took it to the room with a table and four chairs. He put everything down haphazardly before running back down to Amy with the tray.

"That was quick," said Amy, as she stirred something in a big pot on the stove.

"I just put it on the table," Ste replied.

"Yeah, but…" Amy started, "they'll want it a certain way, won't they?"

"What?" said Ste.

"The dinner stuff," Amy hissed, "they'll want it set up properly, like posh people."

For some reason Ste couldn't imagine Brendan looking at food for longer than it took to get it in his mouth. He doubted it mattered where on the table it was. Eileen, however…

"How though?" Ste asked.

Amy gave him a ladle. "Put that into them bowls, then bring that bread and them up. I'll sort it, somehow."

Ste did as instructed. When he got to the dining room, Amy had arranged a knife, fork and spoon at two of the chairs, and other stuff lined down the centre. She took the bowls from Ste and placed one at each chair, then the bread in the centre.

"Well, if they sack they sack us," she said.

Ste nodded. He hoped they weren't sacked, but this was crazy. He had no clue what he was doing. He tentatively walked back to the Brady's, who were still stood at opposite ends of the room, and said, "Er, dinner is on the table."

Eileen's mouth twitched, but she followed it witch a dazzling smile, "Thank you, Steven," she sang and gracefully glided past him. Brendan followed her, his eyebrows lowered in a frown. He pushed the door closed behind Eileen's back, sealing himself and Ste alone in the drawing room.

"Steven," he grunted.

"Yes, Brendan?" Ste answered, as innocently as possible.

"Why has my wife abandoned the usual contempt-filled silence she uses for me, and replaced it by ten minutes rambling on how sweet and pretty you are?" Brendan asked, with a small hint of threat in his voice.

"Er, I don't know?" Ste tried, worriedly. Amy's theories seemed pathetic in the face of Brendan's darkened features. "I best get…" He was turning to leave the room before he'd even come up with an excuse to go, but Brendan's hand caught on his waist, nudging him back against the wall. "She's probably just trying to say we're doing a good job," Ste tried.

Brendan snorted, and Ste felt slight irritation that everyone thought he was going to be crap at everything. Even if it was true in this case.

"Tell me, Steven," growled Brendan, close to his ear, "Do you find my wife… pretty?"

Even Ste knew there was no acceptable answer to that. "Er," he said in lieu of one.

"You wouldn't be the first man, Steven," the Irishman continued.

Ste swallowed as Brendan's face neared his.

Brendan's voice dropped to a whisper, "That clear skin," His fingers touched Ste's face, "Those clear, blue eyes, soft, fair hair."

Ste's breath caught in his throat at Brendan's closeness, "Eileen's hair's not fair," he whispered.

"Isn't it?" Brendan whispered carelessly, the hand on Ste's waist dropping to his hip.

Ste frowned in confusion, "Are you jealous of me liking her or her liking me?"

Brendan snorted, "Jealous? Have you seen my face?"

Ste, already disarmed, smiled. "Well, we're both quite attractive," he whispered.

"Yeah," Brendan breathed, his hands trailing to Ste's torso, "yes we are."

Ste grinned, "I mean me and Eileen."

Brendan sniffed, his hand slipping to the waist of Ste's trousers, "So," he whispered, his hand making short work of Ste's fly, "you don't find me attractive?"

Ste's breathing was speeding up, becoming erratic already. How could this man have such an effect on him with a few words and barely a whisper of a touch? "Course I do," he whispered.

"Is that so?" Brendan breathed into his ear.

Ste nodded, barely able to keep his hands down, wanting to cling to Brendan, to grasp his face, but not wanting to ruin this strange power the older man had on him.

"Do I have a reason to be jealous, Steven?" Brendan whispered, and Ste shook his head, coherent thought abandoning him as Brendan's hand touched him exactly where he wanted to be touched.

"Thought not," Brendan hissed, and brought their lips together powerfully; taking Ste's cock in the firm grip Ste had craved for who knew how long. Ste wrapped his own hands around Brendan's neck, trying to pull him closer, and it wasn't close enough. He wanted to wrap his legs around him to, to cling to him and never let go, to…

"Brendan?" sang a voice from the other side of the door, causing them both to freeze. Eileen sounded strangely happy, and Ste wondered if she'd assumed Brendan was threatening him, or even beating him up, "Brendan, are you going to join me for dinner?"

Brendan's hand withdrew with speed, and Ste turned away from the door, pulling his clothes together just in time to avoid Eileen seeing as she opened the door. She beamed at the sight of him, looking flushed and untidy, and Ste knew she'd come to her own conclusions about what had happened here. She smiled at Brendan, "Coming, sweetheart?" she asked in a girlish voice that grated on Ste. Brendan smiled back, though his was almost menacing with annoyance.

"After you, dearest Mrs Brady," he replied, mock bowing and gesturing with a hand to the door.

Eileen gave Ste a wicked smirk, and then turned from the room. Brendan gave Ste a wicked smirk of a very different kind, and followed her. Ste was grateful for the looseness of his trousers.

**Love reviews, so please keep them coming!**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: I have been horribly neglectful of all you wonderful people who have taken the time to read this story and tell me what you think. In a small attempt to make it up, I have a slightly longer than normal chapter, and it doesn't even have a massive cliff-hanger. I will aim to get the next one up this weekend.**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! They are lovely to read!**

Brendan Brady had an infuriating talent for fogging Ste's mind. He seemed to turn every thought that passed through Ste's brain into a messy, slushy lust-filled haze. It wasn't until Ste had escaped to the relative sanity of the kitchen that he remembered he had decided he had been planning not to let Brendan near him like that again.

He wondered if he was capable of staying angry with Brendan. The hurt from their previous few encounters was still heavy in Ste's mind when he was outside of the man's presence. The shame still stung.

Ste escaped the house the second both Bradys began to eat their dinner. He didn't fancy being in the same room as either of them, and didn't think eating with them would be how Eileen saw the role of servants anyway. Amy had already disappeared back to the kitchen, Leah in tow, and together they were cleaning up the dinner things. Ste didn't explain before he slipped out of the back.

He didn't fancy going out the front; if one of Danny's men was following them; that would be where they would watch from. Probably. Maybe that was an overreaction too; maybe Brendan was right not to worry.

He stood in the cool evening air, hearing the quiet laughter, the gossip, the grumbling of servants and trades people going about their business around him. They all seemed busy, and Ste wondered what they were doing that kept them so busy, why he hadn't really felt busy since he arrived despite running around looking after Leah and seeing Lucas. There was probably a lot he needed to do but hadn't figured out yet. There was a lot of dust. Maybe he was supposed to get rid of that. Somehow.

A voice shouted something far off to the left. It sounded young. Maybe some kids were playing.

He wondered if Brendan and Eileen were arguing. Or ignoring each other. Or looking for him. He wasn't sure what would be worse, Eileen flagrantly trying to get him flustered to wind up Brendan, or Brendan subtly succeeding to get him flustered with very different motives.

The shout came again, though this time he knew it wasn't play. Ste checked up the alley, but it must have been coming from the street at the end. He glanced back and forth, hoping someone else might intervene so he wouldn't have to do anything. Still he hesitated, worried. A figure suddenly burst into the alley, only to be caught by a number of others following. He shouted again, and now Ste recognised the voice as belonging to a teenage boy, who was trying to escape a gang of kids of a similar age.

Ste swore quietly to himself. Obviously he was going to be the only person around willing to do anything.

"Oi!" he shouted.

The kids looked at him, some worried. Ste had hoped it would be enough to shout, but it wasn't. They seemed to be pulling at the poor boy's pockets and the bag the boy was gripping, and Ste felt a sense of relief – if they were nicking stuff so obviously like this, they probably didn't have a weapon.

"Oi!" he repeated, and began to march, feeling immensely relieved when the kids started to scatter. The other lad shouted after them.

"Are you alright?" Ste asked, checking the coast was clear.

"Yeah, course!" the boy replied, in a low, sulky grumble.

"Course," Ste replied, understanding that need to not seem weak. He probably needed an excuse to let Ste stay near him. "Er, I was just going for a walk."

The boy looked at him suspiciously, but with unmistakable hope to.

"Where are you going, then?" Ste asked kindly and nonchalantly.

The boy looked at the floor again, lips sulky. "I dunno," he said.

"Why not?" Ste asked without thinking.

"None of your business!" the boy snapped

"I'm trying to help!" Ste snapped back, annoyed. He'd wished someone had tried to help him when Terry was beating him up.

"Well I don't need your help!" the lad shouted, and turned away, though didn't get far. He was shaking before he had taken even a few steps.

"Look," Ste said, more kindly this time, "come and have a sit down and a drink in the kitchen, and we can try and figure out where you're trying to go, yeah?"

The boy looked doubtfully at Ste, then back around himself. Part of Ste regretted those words already. The last thing he wanted to do was teach the lad to trust any random person he met here in this city. But if the boy's previous encounter hadn't taught him right, nothing would.

Ste suspected it was exhaustion that made up the boy's mind in the end, and he nodded, following Ste back to Brendan's house. Amy and Leah were still sat in the kitchen, putting the last of the cooking things away. Amy turned to him and stared.

"Where did you go? And who is that?" she demanded, angrily.

"Just out," Ste replied, evasively. 'Trying to escape the marital war of our new employers' seemed a bit counter-productive to his decision to stay here.

Amy raised her eyebrows, "Great, one non-answer and one question ignored. Great, Ste."

"He was outside, getting beaten up," Ste replied.

"No!" the boy protested. Ste and Amy both looked at him, and he ducked his head, "alright, yes," he said.

"Who is he though?" Amy asked Ste. Ste shrugged. "What's your name?" she asked the boy.

"Declan," he replied, and sat on one a chair.

"So, you gonna tell us what happened, then?" Ste asked Declan.

Declan surveyed them both for a moment longer before he decided to tell them. They clearly had friendly faces. "My Ma sent me to some school ages ago. Horrible place, where they beat you for anything and all the pupils are dead posh. I just couldn't stay there anymore, so I left."

"You ran away?" Amy asked.

"Yeah," Declan replied. "You'd have done the same!"

"How old are you?" Amy asked.

"Fourteen," Declan answered, glaring as though daring her to call him a child.

"Was it a long way?" Ste asked. He wondered if he'd have done better if he'd run away from Terry that young. Probably not, he probably would have got himself killed with his attitude.

"Ireland," Declan replied.

"What?" exclaimed Amy, her mouth agape.

"The school was in Ireland," Declan repeated, "I snuck onto a ferry to get here."

"But why don't you know where your family are?" Ste asked. "Do you have one?"

"Yeah!" Declan snapped, as though offended, "it's just, they moved. Got some posh house, now. But those boys nicked all my stuff, so I don't have the address any more. It was this road though."

The thought occurred to Ste that this was an impossible coincidence about a second before Brendan strolled casually into the kitchen. "Steven, I need your help in the office," he stated breezily, not noticing the newcomer. He did, however, notice Ste and Amy's surprised faces staring between him and Declan.

"What?" he said.

Declan turned, face shocked. "Dad," he said.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Brendan cried.

"Brendan!" Ste scolded, before he could stop himself. Brendan ignored him, but Declan noticed, and gave him a funny look.

"I'm paying an arm and a leg for that school, and what?" continued Brendan.

"I ran away!" Declan stated, bravely.

"You ran away? From Belfast to Liverpool?"

"Yeah! I'm not a kid!" Declan insisted.

His father snorted at that, "Ain't ye? A man would've taken the chances we gave you!"

"You had nothing to do with it! Mam chose!"

"And who do you think's paying for it?" said Brendan, anger tingeing his voice now, "that was one of the best schools in…"

"I don't care!" snapped Declan, "I'm too old for school!"

"Don't be thick," said Brendan, but that just spurred Declan on.

"I ain't one of them, Dad! Some posh kid who's gonna be a lawyer or a doctor or an army officer or something. I'm like you."

Brendan looked furious, ready to explode. "Get upstairs!" he barked. "We'll talk about it in the morning."

He sat on a chair at the table and put his head in his hands. At the sight of him settling in her kitchen, Amy swept Leah up in her arms, and announced she was putting her to bed, and escaped. Declan hovered a moment longer. "Go," Brendan growled, dangerously low this time, and Declan did as instructed.

Brendan let out a tired sigh the moment the door to the kitchen clicked shut.

"He ain't like me," Brendan sighed. "I don't want him to be like me."

Ste thought about arguing, but decided not to.

"He's a good lad, you know?" Brendan said, quietly. "He's clever, too."

"Yeah," Ste agreed. In the short time he'd known Declan he'd seemed like a nice boy. "He said he hated the school," he added, trying to help explain the boy's actions.

"It weren't my idea to send him there," Brendan replied defensively. "But he shouldn't be like me, dealing with the Warrens and Dannys of this world."

"No one should be having to deal with them, though," Ste replied, honestly.

Brendan sniffed. "Are we really any better than them?"

"Yes!" Ste insisted, without hesitation. "I don't know much about Warren, but you would never have tried to make me do what Danny wanted me to."

Brendan gave a small smile, "Yeah, you always seemed pretty keen when it was with me."

Ste smiled, then glared. "I mean you've never made me..."

"Sorry," Brendan interrupted in a whisper, "I know you're not a prostitute. I'm just..."

He didn't finish the sentence. Ste didn't know if he should be assuming the word would have been 'jealous' or not. It could have been angry, it could have been possessive, it could have been anything. He let the silence last only a few moments before he said, "I know."

Brendan cleared his throat awkwardly, "So, what did he say?"

Ste recounted the whole event, from hearing the cries, to Brendan's entrance, trying to recall what Declan had told him as accurately as possible. Brendan let him speak, listening quietly. At the end he said "They shouldn't be beating my son."

Ste nodded. Though he couldn't imagine growing up without the beatings, if anyone did that to Lucas, he would want to hurt them. But Declan didn't look bruised or hurt, even though he'd just been mugged. He wasn't walking strangely, it wasn't uncomfortable for him to sit. Maybe he meant something different by beating than Ste did. To Ste it meant barely being able to walk for a week after. "He seems alright, though" Ste offered, not sure if he was trying to comfort Brendan, or defending whoever it was.

"Yeah," agreed Brendan. "Er, thanks..." he added, nervously.

"What for?" Ste asked, genuinely.

"For looking after him," Brendan replied, "those lads..."

"Oh, that was nothing," Ste said, "anyone would've done it."

"They didn't, though, did they?" said Brendan.

Ste blushed, stupidly pleased by the idea that Brendan thought he was brave or good or really anything nice about him. "You would have. You helped Lucas, and you didn't even know me."

"I paid a little bit of money," Brendan said, as though it were nothing

"You helped him when I couldn't," said Ste. "I'll always be grateful, you know?"

Brendan snorted, "What is this, a competition? Who did the most for each other's kid?"  
Ste smiled, "Maybe."

"Yeah, well I had an ulterior motive," Brendan said with a smirk. "How long will Amy spend putting the girl to bed?"

"Amy'll spend long enough putting _Leah_ to bed," Ste replied.

"Long enough for what?" Brendan whispered, and stroked Ste's hair off his face.

The door opened suddenly, "I..." Declan started, and suddenly stopped when he saw them.

"What?" said Brendan, boldly; clearly deciding to pretend it was completely normal for a man to be stroking another man's face.

"I don't know where my room is," Declan said softly, eyes darting curiously between Ste and Brendan.  
Brendan sighed sadly, "Steven, could you take Declan up to the boys' room and help with anything else he needs. Then come to my room. To sort out the fireplace."

Ste nodded, saw that Declan was still looking 6curiously at him so added, "Yes Mr Brady."

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Ste found 'the boys' room' on his second try. It was just a bedroom, but he checked the wardrobe and found a selection of clothes that might fit someone Declan's size, and some more for someone slightly smaller.

"Thanks," said Declan, "so... who are ye? Is it Steven?"

"Call me Ste," said Ste, "and your parents have employed me and Amy as servants."

"Right," said Declan, "so, what are you, like a butler?"

"Er..." said Ste, "just a general servant I think."

"Because the boys at school, they were always like 'we've got a butler, a valet, 5 housemaids, 3 footmen, 2 cooks...'" Declan informed him, putting on a fake posh English accent.

Ste decided he was definitely doing something wrong if it usually took that many people to be servants. "I don't really know," he said honestly, "I used to work for your Dad at the club. And Amy's a great cook."

"But what does Mam say about it?" asked Declan. He was astute this kid, saw stuff clearly.

"I don't know," Ste replied evasively, pretty sure Declan would understand that as 'she's not happy.' "Look, I gotta get on, me, if I'm valet and a butler and a footman and a cook all at the same time."

"Yeah," Declan replied, and Ste noticed the scepticism.

"Well, night," he said cheerfully, and escaped the room as quickly as he could without running. He heard footsteps on the floor below and glanced down in time to see Eileen disappear into her room. He quickly popped up to their own rooms. Amy was kissing Leah goodnight, as the little girl drifted off into a gentle sleep. Ste did the same, careful not to reawaken her. Amy yawned beside him.

"I think I better get some sleep too, today's been well weird," she said. "Night," she added, and pecked Ste on the cheek. The kiss was exactly the same as the one she'd given Leah, like all their kisses were nowadays. Ste didn't mind. Amy felt more like a sister to him now than anything else, nowadays. He'd protect her with his life, as much as he would the kids, but she didn't get his heart racing. And he suspected she felt the same about him. Ste let her go to bed, and he himself went back down the stairs.

Amy and Leah were in bed. Eileen had gone to her own room, presumably without the intention to come out again now it was dark. Declan would be exhausted, too, having travelled so far. He knocked on Brendan's door, quietly.

Brendan opened it, looking stunning in the soft light of the gas lamps. He stood back to allow Ste to step into his room. The bedroom somehow suited him already. The walls were a dark shade of red, the wooden floor decorated with a soft rug, and a large four poster bed that looked more luxurious than anything Ste had ever seen before. When Brendan shut the door behind him, Ste turned to him, and leant up to kiss him.

Brendan let him get about an inch from his face before he said "So, the fire Steven?"

"Oh," said Ste, stupidly. That would take ages. He turned towards the dark, empty fireplace. Why did Brendan even want a fire? It was warm enough in here.

Brendan caught him by the arm and spun him back round, catching his face. "There are better ways to keep warm," he growled, and brought their lips together. As they kissed he pushed Ste back onto the bed. Ste almost laughed. A bed seemed such a stupidly normal place for a relationship like this, but he let Brendan pull his clothes off, and pulled at Brendan's in return.

"By my calculations, Steven," Brendan breathed, his lips trailing to Ste's neck, "I'd say we've got all night."

"Yeah" Ste replied in a whisper, wrapping his legs around Brendan's muscular frame, "Sounds like fun."

**Please take the time to review.**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Thanks again for the reviews**

Ste basked in the warmth and strength of Brendan's body as they spent their first night together. His shoulders and chest were broad and muscled, and just the right height for Ste's head to rest comfortably on the join, and for every moment of strenuous passionate sexual frenzy they shared, there was a moment of calm, restfulness that followed, as Brendan held Ste close to his side, protectively and possessively, making Ste feel cherished in a way he'd never experienced before. Amy loved him like he loved Amy, and his children needed him so much, but in those moments it felt like Brendan adored him. Particularly his body, though Ste still didn't understand that.

It was during one of those quiet moments, as Brendan's his stroked his back, his own hand resting on Brendan's chest, that he realised he never wanted this to end. He couldn't imagine a happier moment in anyone's life. A stupid smile grew on his face, and he couldn't get rid of it.

Brendan noticed.

"What?" the Irishman asked, the hand on Ste's back still lazily exploring the skin he found there.

"Nothing," Ste replied, as casually as possible while the stupid smile refused to leave.

"What is it?" Brendan demanded, and when Ste failed to reply, shifted to look at him better.

Ste could think of nothing to say, and bit his lip in a new but doomed attempt not to smile.

"Spill it," Brendan ordered, "or do I have to torture it out of you?"

Ste raised an eyebrow, "Torture?"

Brendan's moustache quirked, "That a request?"

"No," Ste replied, uncertainly.

"Then speak, boy."

"No," said Ste, mostly to see what Brendan would do next.

Brendan smirked, "Good," he whispered, then pushed Ste flat onto his back and straddled him. Ste pushed at his chest, playfully, but Brendan batted his hands aside and assaulted Ste's chest with his mouth. He wound a trail downwards, tasting and caressing, moustache tickling wherever he passed, and driving Ste crazy with need. Ste reached for his head, suddenly desperate to push it to the place he wanted it. Brendan took his arms and pushed them into the mattress. "Stay," he ordered.

Ste sniggered.

Brendan's mouth returned to its slow, beautiful, excruciating teasing. Ste's skin tingled where it caressed him, and he shivered, blood rushing to his hardening cock. Annoyingly, Brendan's mouth didn't seem to have the same need to rush there. Ste moaned, and tried to will Brendan to take pity. Brendan's lips descended further, but completely bypassed the place Ste needed them.

"Brendan!" Ste moaned, voice between a beg and a sigh.

"What do you want Steven?" growled Brendan, and Ste could feel his lips moving against his skin.

"You know Brendan," Ste breathed, mind going fuzzy with need.

Brendan looked up from where he had been working Ste's right thigh, "Do I?" and this time Ste felt the older man's breath on his cock.

"Yes!" gasped Ste, "Please Brendan!"

"Tell me what made you laugh then," Brendan ordered, his mouth so close now, yet so frustratingly far.

Ste managed to reply in great gasping breaths, "I wasn't laughing."

The very tip of one finger touched Ste's penis, and he arched off the bed. It was what he wanted, but nowhere near enough. "Tell me," Brendan repeated.

Ste shook his head. He barely had enough coherent thoughts left to plead his innocence. In retaliation, Brendan nudged Ste's legs further apart. Ste's mind nearly imploded.

"This what you want?" said Brendan in his sexiest growl that on normal days sent Ste's knees weak. Right now it was totally unfair. Ste could barely nod as Brendan's fingers joined his mouth to torture him into oblivion. "Then tell me," Brendan prompted

"I love you," Ste gasped.

He hadn't meant to say that. He'd been aiming for the 'you're amazing' that had been floating through his brain for most of this night, maybe even hoping it to sound purely sexual and filthy. He hadn't even realised he'd been thinking about love. He hadn't really. Two men didn't fall in love. The pantomime didn't end up with Prince Charming running off with Buttons. The very idea of doing what he and Brendan were doing was sinful. How dare Ste try to turn it into something special?

Brendan stilled. The spell had been broken. Ste's mind wasn't hazy any more.

Brendan pushed himself off of Ste, and sat upright on the bed. His face was blank, back to its mask. "What do you expect me to do with that, Steven?"

Ste didn't know, "I mean," he tried, "I love this, this, you know?"

Brendan looked at him levelly, and Ste couldn't bear to see anger or rejection in Brendan's face, so stared instead at the coverlet.

"I've got a wife and kids," Brendan stated, "So have you."

"I know," Ste mumbled.

"This is just fun, yeah? Just us getting the stuff we need so we can be decent husbands and fathers."

But Brendan's words didn't ring true to Ste. Things were suddenly getting clearer. He sprang up and off the bed, wondering where his clothes were. "Move all your bits of fun in with you then?" he grumbled.

"Shut up," Brendan hissed, and Ste knew he'd hit a nerve, no longer looking for his clothes.

"You feel it too, don't ya?!" he said in amazement.

"Shut up! I moved you in here because I felt sorry for ya."

"Yeah, right," said Ste, "Since I met you, I've managed to think of two things; you and my kids."

"Why won't you shut up?" Brendan growled, and not in his sexy voice this time.

"It's been the same for you, hasn't it?" Ste pushed.

And suddenly Brendan pounced on him. He pushed a hand roughly against Ste's mouth, the other grabbing his hair. Ste panicked; feeling himself pushed back until he was against the wall. "Shut up, shut up, shut up," Brendan repeated over and over again, and Ste saw fury on his face and tears in his eyes. Ste's hands flailed, trying to grab Brendan's off of him, push him away, and Brendan let go of his face and hair only to grab the arms instead, and push them back, hold them there. "Stop it!" the older man sobbed, "stop it!" and Ste did. He wasn't sure if he was scared of Brendan any more. He didn't believe he wanted hurt Ste, but Ste had pushed too far. What had he expected?

"I'm sorry!" Ste gasped, "I don't… I'm sorry!"

"Why did ye have to spoil it?" snarled Brendan, his face distorted with anger.

"I'm sorry," Ste cried again, and Brendan pulled off him, turning away in disgust, and walking back to the bed. Ste caught his breath, then scrambled from the wall. His clothes were somewhere in the room, and he stumbled blindly around in the semi-darkness, cursing himself internally for such stupidity.

"Where are you going?" Brendan mumbled from the bed as Ste tried desperately to get his things together.

"Where d'you think?" he spat, angrily, hurt.

Brendan grunted, and Ste found his trousers. He pulled them on, tried to hold back his sniffling and tears.

"Don't," Brendan muttered.

Ste ignored him, finding his shirt and pulling it over his head.

"Don't go," Brendan repeated, more firmly this time.

"You can't treat me like that," Ste grumbled.

"Course I can, you're my servant, I can do what I want."

"You can be a proper bastard, sometimes can't ya?" snapped Ste.

"Is that news to you?" replied Brendan, "you've known me, what, a week?"

"No, it's not news to me," Ste hissed.

"You don't know the half of it!" Brendan informed him. "I'm the spawn of Satan, me."

Brendan wasn't evil. He may be a pain, and have a temper, but Ste was sure of that, "No you aren't," he said without thinking.

"I am," Brendan countered, "I was made by evil, and I shall never be free of it."

"You're not evil, Brendan!" Ste argued, though he wasn't sure why.

"And what do you know, eh?" Brendan growled, still sat upon the bed, head bowed, shoulders tense.

"I know enough," Ste grumbled. "You helped Lucas when you didn't have to."

Brendan was silent for a moment. Ste didn't leave. He was feeling lost. It was all so quick. He barely knew Brendan, yet he felt like he'd never not known him.

"Come back to bed," Brendan instructed, quietly, "come on."

"And next time you get angry with me?" Ste asked quietly.

"I told you, I'm a wrong'un and I shall be as long as I live," Brendan sniffed, "are you getting in?"

He knew he should walk out, never come back in here, look for a new job and somewhere else to live and take his family away from this madhouse and this man who'd proclaimed himself to be a demon. But Ste couldn't. He didn't believe that people could be devils.

He stepped carefully back across the dark room and into the bed. He made no move to touch Brendan, and Brendan didn't either. They lay opposite each other, peering through the darkness at each other's faces.

"You aren't evil, Brendan," Ste whispered. "People aren't evil. They just chose to do bad things sometimes."

If Ste hadn't known better, he would have let himself believe Brendan had smiled. He felt himself drifting off to sleep. He wasn't sure if he dreamed Brendan's reply.

"I wish that was true Steven," Brendan breathed, "but you'll see soon enough, I promise you that."

**AN: Let me know what you think.**


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Decided to post what I'd done, even though it's not much. I know I left you waiting for ages recently, and I won't be able to update 'til Sunday at the earliest, unless a miracle happens. So here we are, and I'm working very hard not to turn it into a French farce. It may turn into a French farce. **

**Thanks to everyone who keeps taking the time to review! I love it!**

**Enjoy!**

The sunlight that peeked through the gap in the curtains was not enough to wake Ste. Nor was the movement of his bed mate in the night. Brendan had somehow got so close to him again, arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. And Ste too had found his way back to those arms, his head back on Brendan's shoulder, arm across Brendan's stomach.

The voices outside the door woke him. One was mumbling but irritable. The other was Amy.

"I'll get it now, Mrs Brady," she was saying, a plead in her voice.

"And when your good for nothing husband shows his face you can tell him, if he wants to keep working here, he'll have to do better than this."

Eileen's voice was a snarl now, and Ste's eyes were suddenly wide open.

"Yes, Mrs Brady," Amy replied, and Ste heard footsteps running down the stairs. A second pair trod more gracefully, presumably in the same direction.

"Oh, God," he whispered, "what time is it?"

Brendan shifted beside him, pulling him closer, obviously still asleep, or at least resisting awareness.

"Brendan," he whispered urgently, "I've got to get up. Amy'll kill me."

Brendan grumbled, but didn't really move.

"Brendan!" Ste hissed more urgently, "get off!" He shoved the arm that lay over him firmly and after some work, managed to get it off. He scrambled off the bed and grabbed his clothes. Thankfully they were still in a pile where he'd dropped them during the night before.

"Where are you going?" Brendan grumbled, his voice full of sleep.

"Amy was outside, and Eileen, talking about where I was!"

Brendan grunted, "So, tell them I sent you to do something early."

"Right, and what am I supposed to have done?"

"I dunno," Brendan replied, "just come back to bed."

"No!" Ste hissed, "she threatened to sack me!"

Brendan snorted, as though he didn't think much of that threat. Ste was pulling his clothes on. He turned away from Brendan to pull his shirt over his head. As he did, he heard Brendan's feet behind him. Hands reached around his torso, pulled him back against a strong chest.

"Brendan!" he scolded, quietly, "I have to go."

"Go then," Brendan breathed, "I'm not stopping you," and his hands were gentle, his lips finding Ste's neck the moment it escaped the cloth. He wasn't stopping Ste going, he was just making it very hard to leave.

"I've got to," Ste protested, but his mind was clouding again. And Ste's hand was travelling lower. If he didn't get out now he never would. "No," he said firmly, pulling the hand away. "I'm going," and he almost ran, though not before Brendan managed to give his arse a firm squeeze. Ste giggled as he pulled the door open, blushing furiously, hair a mess, shirt not quite done up.

And walked straight into Declan.

His good mood vanished. His mouth dropped and he panicked, letting the door slam behind him.

"Declan, er, I was just, er… er…er…"

Declan looked quite shocked too, but interrupted Ste after his third er, "Please, I'd love an explanation for you leaving my father's bedroom at this time in the morning in a state of undress."

"Er… cleaning?" tried Ste.

Declan looked at his untucked, open shirt.

Ste added, "It was hot."

Declan gave him a look of disgust and turned on his heel, going back into his own room. Ste trotted down the stairs, knowing there was no way Declan would just believe something so pathetic, but surely the first idea that came into a teenager's mind wouldn't be 'my father is having sex with a man'?

He had sorted out his appearance by the time he got down to the kitchen. Amy was preparing some eggs and bread for breakfast, and it took him a moment to remember it probably wasn't for him.

"Where have you been?" she demanded the moment she saw him.

"Brendan sent me to get something," he lied. He was rubbish at lying to Amy.

"To get what?" she asked.

"Just… stuff," Ste said lamely.

"Stuff?" Amy questioned. She was never one to just let things be unknown to her.

"Yes, stuff," said Ste, not kindly, "so shall we get on?"

"Alright!" replied Amy, voice defensive, "take these up, then."

She shoved a plateful of bread and some knives and forks into his hands. Ste nodded, hoping to placate her. He trotted back up the stairs, into the room with the dining room. Eileen was sat there, looking disgruntled, like she was being very put out by allowing other people to make and bring her some breakfast. Ste tried to smile at her, though knowing he was sleeping with her husband didn't make it easy. He put the things down on the table.

"Er, Amy's just doing some eggs," he said.

She gave him a glare, but then forced her face into a strained smile. "Thank you, Steven," she said, and shifted her position so that she was looking at him over the curve of her shoulder. Ste coughed uncomfortably.

"I better go and, er, get the rest of the stuff," he said, trying to look anywhere but at Eileen's strangely blinking eyes.

"Don't be long," she purred, and Ste darted, once again bumping into Declan in the doorway. He considered trying to explain why he was running from the boy's mother, but realised there was no good reason. He dodged the teenager and escaped down the stairs.

"Eileen's being weird again," he said to Amy, but this time Amy didn't laugh. She looked at him strangely.

"Did you spend the night with her?" she asked.

"No!" cried Ste.

"Look, Ste," Amy said, her voice completely businesslike, "we're not married, we haven't… you know… together in years, and I know you've got needs. I feel them too, sometimes. I would understand if you want to find that with another woman..."

"I…" Ste started, knowing he could deny sleeping with another woman as much as he wanted, and it be true, but it wouldn't be honest.

"It's fine, Ste," interrupted Amy, "but do you think it's sensible to sleep with your boss?"

Ste didn't know what to say.

Amy continued, "Because that could get very messy. I mean, what if Brendan finds out? I know they're not exactly… close, but they are still married. She's still his wife."

Ste couldn't look at her. The eggs had been abandoned. She was staring at him over the table. He was staring at a knot in the wood.

"But … but they don't love each other," he whispered.

"They did once," she said, "how would you feel if someone you trusted slept with me behind your back?"

"I don't know," Ste replied, honestly. He was surprised to find his eyes were tingling, and hoped he wasn't going to start crying in front of Amy. "I'm not sleeping with Eileen, anyway," he said, trying to emphasise 'anyway' rather than 'Eileen'.

"Right," said Amy, though clearly not believing it.

"We've got to get on," said Ste, trying to get out of this conversation before Amy figured out what was going on.

Amy sighed, "You're right," she said, "here," she served the eggs, fried, onto a plate and passed him it. "Take that up, and ask them if there's anything else they want."

Ste nodded, and trundled back upstairs, slow and heavily. He got to the dining room in time to hear a voice behind him.

"Steven," Brendan greeted, mischief in his voice.

Amy's words still ringing in his ears, Ste picked up the pace to escape into the dining room. Declan and Eileen were sat, making a start on the bread, while Brendan slipped in behind him. Ste put the eggs on the table. Eileen smiled at him, "Thank you, Steven," she said in a girly voice.

Declan looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You're welcome, Mrs Brady," Ste mumbled, "is there anything else I can get ya?"

"No, thank you," Declan replied, obvious anger in his voice, and Ste wondered if he'd assumed more than what was true.

"Right," said Ste, and turned to leave again. He hadn't noticed that Brendan had managed to get so close to him. He walked into the older man, their chests bumping together. A triumphant grin was glued to Brendan's face. Ste's went bright red.

"Sorry, Bre… Mr Brady," Ste mumbled, and tried to step around him. Brendan's hand caught him on the chest. Ste's body hopefully masked the movement from Brendan's wife and son, but Ste couldn't have felt worse.

"No problem, Steven," said Brendan, his hand trailing across his chest before he let it drop to the floor. Ste ran out immediately, stupidly overexcited.

He was a bad person.

**AN: Reviews are much appreciated!**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Thanks to everybody who keeps taking the time to review! It means so much to me! **

**Enjoy!**

After Brendan had left for work, Ste decided it was safe to say that Declan hated him.

And Ste couldn't blame him. He imagined Declan's thoughts. He'd come back from a school he hated to find his parents in a new house and barely able to stand to look at each other, and strong evidence that at least one of them was sleeping with Ste. Who wouldn't blame Ste for that?

Declan showed it in small ways; glares, silences. Eileen was still playing her 'seduce the working class yob I really can't stand' game, which freaked Ste out, and clearly made Declan even more confused and uncomfortable. He found as many excuses as possible to do 'stuff' elsewhere in the house, and twenty minutes before the hospital's visiting hours, had to stop himself running out of the house, stopping to put Leah's shoes on, as Amy went up stairs to grab her coat. From his seat in the kitchen, he heard Eileen catch Amy on her way back down.

"Where are you going?" Eileen shrieked.

"To see Lucas," replied Amy, as though that were something obvious that everyone had agreed upon already, and should be news to no one.

"Who?" cried Eileen, which Ste could have predicted.

"Our son," Amy replied, though now with a note of worry in her voice.

"Son?" Eileen repeated, though her voice was now a screech. Ste hurried to finish with Leah and went to Amy's rescue. That was a bad decision. Leah followed him. "What the hell is that girl doing in my house?"

"She's our daughter, Mrs Brady," Ste began.

"Two children? You have brought two children into my house and not told us?!"

"Bren… Mr Brady, knows," Ste replied.

"Yes, he's met them both," said Amy, nervously, "we didn't know you didn't know."

Eileen looked like she'd been slapped in the face. "Brendan knew?" she hissed.

"Yeah," said Ste.

"What's going on?" asked Declan, appearing at the door to the room with the sofas.

"I suppose you're going to tell me he knew, too?" she hissed at Ste and Amy, nodding her head in the direction of her son. Ste and Amy glanced at each other. Leah had been plain to see when Declan arrived last night.

"I will not have it!" Eileen cried, and Ste wasn't sure if she was talking about people knowing more than her or Leah being in the house.

"Mam, calm down," Declan said quietly.

"I will not calm down, I will not have servants with a brood of screaming children!"

"Just two, actually," replied Amy icily, while Ste was ready to shout at anyone who spoke like that about his kids, boss or otherwise, "and they're hardly screaming if it took you two days to notice them."

"You've only been here two days?" asked Declan in surprise.

"When Brendan gets back you will be out on the streets!" shrieked Eileen.

"We haven't done anything!" Ste shouted.

"Leave it Ste," instructed Amy, probably aware of how close he was to losing his temper, "she won't want rid of us, not with what we know, what we could tell people."

Eileen gasped, "You…!" she started.

"Your husband hired us in good faith, to do a job that we have done with complete honesty since we arrived. We have done nothing wrong. If you force us out, through petty jealousy or whatever your problem is, the whole world will know about the sham that you call a marriage."

"You little slut!" screamed Eileen.

"That's rich, coming from you!" Amy replied, calmly.

"Get out!" Eileen cried, furious tears now falling down her face, and Ste felt disgusting. She thought Amy was talking about herself and Brendan, Amy thought Eileen understood her actions with Ste. Not a word of it was true.

"We're going, for an hour, to see our son in the hospital your husband paid for," Amy smirked, "I suppose he didn't tell you that, either."

Eileen made a move to strike her, but thankfully Declan caught her wrist. "Calm down Mam," he said again, urgently, "we'll sort it out with Dad."

As Eileen looked ready to explode, Ste grimaced. "Right, so, we'll be off then," he said, trying to sound as normal and breezy as possible, "we'll get some supplies while we're out, and then we'll make some dinner, yeah?"

No one answered him. Declan looked at him like he was the scum of the Earth, and Ste supposed he was.

"Come on then, Leah," he said, taking the little girl's hand, and Amy's arm. He led them both out of the front door, worriedly.

The walk to the hospital was awkward, with Amy calling Eileen a hypocrite among other more choice names. A lot of them weren't fair, but Ste found he wasn't brave enough to counter them, especially as he had other, more important things on his mind.

Declan knowing about Ste's relationship with Brendan was bad enough. If Brendan found out, he would be furious; he could even begin to hate Ste for letting his son find out. He might also be heartbroken. Ste tried to imagine Leah or Lucas finding out about his relationship with Brendan, but the idea was too horrible. And they weren't even old enough to understand how wrong it was. But it would all be a thousand times worse if Declan told Eileen.

Or maybe it wouldn't. Maybe that would be the end of it all. If Eileen found out, and Brendan realised how evil they were being, then surely, that would be enough to end it. Ste and Amy would be sent on their way, and Ste would probably have some new bruises for making it all happen.

Strangely, the worst part of that scenario was imagining the sadness Brendan would feel at finding out his son knew.

Feeling like the lowest of the low, Ste was not expecting good news at the hospital. Strangely, he did get good news. Sister Grace approached them, with what presumably she thought passed for a smile.

"He's been a very brave little boy," she said, her tone matter of fact, "the fever has passed, and the doctors only wish to keep him here for one more night to make sure it doesn't return."

Ste was stunned for a moment, and then suddenly the happiest he had ever been. His little boy was better. He was a strong and brave little boy, and Ste couldn't be more proud of him. He told him so, and the little boy gave him a watery smile from his mother's arms. Leah was suddenly chirpier too, seeing that her brother was better, and sensing that her parents were in a happy mood. She told Lucas all about their lovely room and lovely beds, and the bigger boy that had left making promises that they would see Lucas tomorrow, and though the little boy still cried, he didn't cling quite so much as they left.

They got back over an hour later to an almost silent house. It felt empty with no sound of movement or voices. Amy went straight down to the kitchen, taking Leah with her, while Ste went quietly into the other rooms, checking for Declan and Eileen.

Neither was downstairs. He was doubtful about whether he should try upstairs, but he took a deep breath, and did. Like a coward he tried the nursery first, then Brendan's room, knowing they were unlikely to be in either. Then he steeled himself for Eileen's.

His first impression was one of darkness. The light curtains were drawn over the windows, and the only light was the dim glow of candles on the bedside and the dresser. Initially he assumed the room was empty. Until he heard a quiet moan from the bed.

"Steeeeeven."

It was playful, unhurried. It made Ste freeze.

"Steeeeven," it moaned again, and this time Ste saw something move on the bed. A slim figure rolled over, the lumps on the bed became an hourglass silhouette of a woman.

"Errrr, I should go," said Ste.

"No!" Eileen gasped, sitting up in the bed. The single sheet that covered her fell down revealing the curve of her bare breast. Ste stared as hard as he could at the ceiling. "They've betrayed us, Steven," she breathed, "that whore of a wife of yours and my pathetic lying husband. They've broken the marriage vows, not us!"

"I don't think..." Ste tried.

"We would not be committing a sin, Steven," she said, throwing her legs gracefully to the floor and standing, thankfully taking the sheet with her, "not when we have been hurt so badly. This is not a sin; this is revenge."

A panicked noise escaped Ste's throat. Eileen strode, bravely, seductively towards him.

"Kiss me, Steven," she breathed, now close enough to make Ste back up until he hit the wall, "take me! Avenge the shame and betrayal brought upon us both."

"Eileen," Ste tried, but didn't get far as Eileen sloppily attached her lips to his.

For about five seconds, Ste wondered if it wouldn't just be politer to go through with it. Eileen was pretty, and was more likely to be furious if he turned her down than if he just did as instructed.

But he couldn't do it. It was wrong. And Brendan would probably murder him. He tried to stay completely calm as he stopped Eileen's arms winding around his neck.

"Stop, Eileen," he said.

She didn't seem to hear him at first, trying to rejoin their mouths, trying to free a hand to reach for his body, rubbing her own against him. He tried to hold her back, without touching her as the sheet fell to the floor, showing her naked body in the glow of the candles.

"Stop, Eileen," he repeated, "you don't want to do this!"

His words seemed to penetrate her mind this time. She looked at him with shock and fury. "Who are you to tell me what I do and don't want to do?!" she cried.

Ste held her at arm's length, dreading what was coming next.

"You're a servant!" she suddenly screeched, "If I tell you to do something, you do it!"

Ste found himself newly shocked. Was she going to try to make him? Would he sleep with her to keep this job? "Is that what you think Brendan says?" he asked.

"What, you think your hussy wife is loose enough to do it anyway?" she hissed, nastily, "You might be right."

"Amy isn't sleeping with Brendan!" Ste shouted, angry at everybody and everything that had caused this, mostly himself.

"Of course she is!" Eileen snapped, "he's barely touched me since before Padraig was born. No man can go that long without sex! He's getting it somewhere else! Now get in my bed, right now!"

Ste fought down the temptation just to shout the truth in her infuriating, self-righteous face. "I'm not going to sleep with you to keep my job, Eileen," he said, managing to keep his voice quiet, "and you don't want me to either."

"I want to hurt him!" she shouted, and Ste thought it was probably the most honest thing she'd said since they met.

He was saved from answering her though, as a polite knock on the door sounded a moment before Declan stepped cautiously into the room.

"Is everything..." he started, his voice failed him the moment he saw his undressed mother, pressing her naked body shamelessly against the man he already suspected of sleeping with his father. Eileen let go of Ste as though he'd burnt her. She grabbed the sheet and pulled it around her, close, and looked at Declan with misery and shame in her eyes. "Declan," she whispered.

Declan's mouth hung slightly open. He didn't say any more. Instead he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Eileen went from shocked to hysterical faster than a speeding train. "GET OUIT! she screamed, hitting Ste wherever she could reach with one hand, while the other held the sheet closed, "GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!"


	25. Chapter 25

Ste didn't need the repetitions. He ran to the door of her room, desperate to escape, and practically threw himself through it, tears in his eyes and Eileen's screams in his ears.

He heard a door slam up on the second floor, and closed his eyes in shame. What must Declan think of him now? But what did that matter? The poor boy's entire world must be falling apart.

He had to be brave. Declan needed someone to talk to, someone to shout at, someone to take his anger out on. And it was only right that that person should be Ste. And Ste owed him an explanation, or at least try to explain that he wasn't sleeping with both of his parents. Though it might be easier to pretend it was just Eileen. Declan didn't need to know quite how perverted his father was.

He went up and knocked politely on the door. He got no response from inside, so he opened the door cautiously. "Declan?" he said, quietly.

Declan was stood by the window, staring blankly out, the shock still clear on his face.

"That's Mr Brady, or the young master to you," he said, voice cold, not looking at Ste.

"Are you joking?" asked Ste.

"No!" Declan barked, "you're a servant. That is how servants speak to their masters."

"Er... OK?" said Ste, trying to show willing.

"No, we don't need your consent! You do as you are told!" the boy snapped.

As someone who had never really done as they were told, even if belts and canes were involved, Ste did not take that remark well.

"What, so, I should have just slept with your mother, then?" he said, nastily, but wished he could take it back the moment the look of pain that passed over Declan's face. When Declan punched him, he didn't try to stop him.

The first fist landed on his cheek, more surprising than painful. The second landed on his belly, but he was expecting it that time, and moved with the punch. They left him breathless, and Declan too seemed surprised at himself, looking at his hands as though he'd never seen them before. Ste took a shaky breath in to say "Feel better, now then?"

Declan let out an almost animalistic snarl, and sprang, his whole body weight slamming into Ste and knocking him to the ground. He hit and scratched and grabbed at any part of Ste's body, while Ste wriggled, undecided between throwing the brat off of him and taking the punishment he deserved.

Declan was tiring quickly, descending into sobs, his punches becoming grabs, and his anger becoming misery. Ste let him calm, until the boy was just lying bonelessly on top of him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered quietly, hoping Declan wouldn't just try to hurt him again.

"You're a disgusting, pervert!" Declan sobbed.

"Yeah," Ste agreed. He'd realised that already. But it didn't matter; he couldn't leave Brendan if he tried.

"You're evil!" Declan hissed.

Ste thought about it. He was sleeping with a married man, but Brendan and Eileen were man and wife in name only. They didn't sleep together and they clearly didn't love each other. Eileen's jealousy and anger over Amy wasn't enough to actually make her have it out with her husband, just try to do the same to wound him. The marriage had been over for long before Ste arrived. Ste hadn't tried to hurt anyone.

"I'm not evil," he said, "I made a bad choice."

"Two bad choices!" Declan grumbled.

"I never slept with your Mum, Declan," Ste whispered.

Declan was quiet for a moment. "But you did with my father?"

Ste didn't answer. He couldn't lie to the boy, but he couldn't admit it either.

"You're disgusting!" Declan hissed.

"Yeah," Ste agreed again, "but it's not me you're angry with, is it?"

"You destroyed my family!" Declan ground the words out of his mouth, the hatred dripping from them. He pushed himself off of Ste, and sat on the floor, curling in on himself. Ste followed suit and sat opposite.

"Your family ain't destroyed, Declan," he said quietly, "Your parents don't love each other anymore, but they both love you."

"They don't," Declan said, simply, "they sent me away."

"To school!" urged Ste, "they sent you to school! They did that for you! They want the best for you!"

"They want me out of their way," Declan argued.

"No, they don't. Really they don't," pleaded Ste, knowing that it would break Brendan's heart to hear all this.

"They want me out of their way so they can screw their pathetic, rent-boy scum!"

It wounded Ste afresh, after thinking he might have got past that, but he couldn't argue anymore. "Your Mum's just upset and confused," he said, honestly, "she's got the wrong end of the stick about Brendan and Amy and is trying to get back at him."

"And Dad?" Declan prompted, "what's he got the wrong end of the stick about? There's an innuendo there somewhere."

Ste had to think carefully before he answered, "I think some people just have these... feelings, you know? Stuff they want that's not normal."

Declan watched him, nose wrinkled, not understanding.

"Like," Ste continued, "like, going to a prostitute, or eating too much, or have you met people who want to hurt other people? Well, that stuff, right, if it hurts people, it's not OK, right, but ..." he breathed in, trying to think how best to put it, "your Dad and me, we want to sleep with each other. And that in itself doesn't hurt people."

"You hurt my Mother!" Declan interrupted.

"Yeah, I know," Ste said, "but it was the lies that did that, not what we did."

Declan looked at him thoughtfully. "It's still an affair. It's still adultery."

"Yeah, it is." Ste agreed, "and I'm sorry. Maybe one day, you'll understand that, though."

Declan scowled at him, and Ste realised they'd got to the end of a line. He stood. "I think, there's nothing else I can say," he said, and when Declan didn't respond, he stepped carefully from the room. He had to kill some hours, now. He went down to the dining room and found a cloth and started to clean. There was dust everywhere, coating every surface, so he wiped it with the cloth, which did very little except whip it up into the air. He opened the windows, tried to air it out. He suspected this was a lost cause.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Brendan returned late in the evening. Ste had sat in the dining room for the last hour, just waiting for him. Neither Eileen nor Declan had spoken a word to Ste or Amy, even when Amy brought them food at dinner time, though she had tried with both.

When Ste heard the door, he went to catch Brendan, hardly knowing what he was planning to say. Brendan spotted him in the low lights of the gas lamps. Ste saw him smirk.

"Missed me?" he drawled, promise of more pleasure than Ste could handle dripping from his voice. But it could not distract Ste.

"Brendan," he said, carefully, quietly, "I need to tell you…"

"Dad?" said a soft voice from upstairs. Ste turned his head to watch Declan descend partway and hover uneasily.

"You alright, Deccy?" Brendan said, and though his voice was kind, Ste noticed the irritation. He wondered if Declan would too.

"Can we talk, Dad?" Declan asked, voice not giving away any of his emotions.

"Hmm," said Brendan, looking Ste up and down. "shouldn't you be in bed?" and Ste assumed that question was for Declan.

"I need to talk, Dad," Declan replied, calmly, though Ste recognised the sadness in his voice now.

Brendan glanced up the stairs at him, then back at Ste. "Right," he said, "Steven, wait in my room, I've got a lot of … jobs I expect you to do."

Ste nodded, and turned to go up the stairs. Declan couldn't look at him as he passed, knowing as he did that Ste had been instructed to get ready for sex. He knocked Ste on the shoulder as he passed, and Ste watched over his shoulder as both Declan and Brendan disappeared into the room with chairs.

He waited in silence in Brendan's bedroom. Another time he might have taken his clothes off or something, but now he felt like a condemned prisoner. He stood on a rug, thinking about lighting a fire, but not really having the energy. The time passed incredibly slowly, and after a while he sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed.

The door opened forcefully a few moments later. Ste leapt to his feet, his muscles tensing, wondering why he was just waiting for a beating. Why wasn't he running like a sane person?

Brendan let the door slam behind him. He saw Ste, but his gaze turned away from him in a moment. He leaned back against the door, breathing loudly, and Ste saw a bottle clasped in his hand.

After a minute more of waiting, the only sound Brendan's breathing, Ste couldn't stand any more. "Shall I go?" he whispered.

Brendan looked up, his eyes wild, his breathing still heavy. He lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped down a mouthful. "Get on the bed," he ordered.

"What?" said Ste.

"Get on the bed," Brendan repeated, "and take your clothes off."

Ste made no move to obey. "Aren't you… I mean…"

"Stop fucking stammering and get on the bed," Brendan growled.

Ste swallowed and tried again. "Are you angry?"

Brendan grunted, "Angry?" he growled, "Why would I be angry?" He lifted the bottle to his lips again, "I mean, why should I be fucking ANGRY!" and he threw the bottle against the wall. Ste flinched, partly amazed it wasn't his own head.

"I should…" he started, but Brendan was faster. He grabbed Ste by the arm and threw him bodily back at the bed. Ste tumbled awkwardly into a sprawl, and before he could right himself, Brendan was blocking the way.

"I told you to get on the fucking bed!" Brendan repeated, and grasped Ste's shirt, pushing it forcefully upwards, over his head. Ste felt a burst of panic.

"What are you doing?!" he protested, but Brendan didn't seem to hear. The shirt got stuck on Ste's arms and neck, and he couldn't seem to get it over his head. Brendan didn't care. He ran his hands roughly up Ste's body, pinching his nipples, scratching his stomach, careless, harsh. Then he started on his trousers.

"Brendan!" Ste nearly shouted, struggling in his shirt as he felt Brendan's hands travel where he was sure Brendan didn't really want to go.

"Shut up," growled Brendan, "you're nothing special, you're just a fuck, you're just a skinny piece of shit."

That was enough to really panic Ste. He kicked his legs, but Brendan shoved him further onto the bed and sat on them. "You're a skinny piece of trash," he said, suddenly shouting.

"Brendan, what do you think you're doing!" Ste shouted back, "get off!"

"You're a … a servant! Nothing… nothing special! And you've destroyed my family!"

With a surge of adrenaline, Ste felt the button of his shirt give, and grabbing material through his sleeves, ripped his shirt open over his face. "Brendan, stop it!" he shouted.

He saw Brendan's eyes meet his. They were still wild, and wet, and his face was red. He was crying. Brendan Brady was crying. His grip was failing, he was crumbling. The aggression left him, as his face dropped to Ste's chest. His hands fell on either side of Ste's shoulders, and he wept like a child against Ste's body.

"He… he knows," he pushed out, through the sobs, through the misery, "he knows I'm… he knows I'm disgusting."

Ste tried to subtly untangle his hands from the shirt without displacing Brendan.

"He hates me," Brendan sobbed, and Ste got one arm out of the shirt. He brought both arms, the bare one and the one still covered in shirt, around Brendan's body, and held him. The candles burned on around them, the house fell silent, but Ste held Brendan as he sobbed through the night.


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Thanks to anyone who reviewed the last chapter, and I've taken on board the issues. I did that thing where I uploaded on the same day I wrote, which I shall ban myself from doing. I have edited it, and made it less... wrong.**

**The jist is the same, though, so you don't have to re-read. Unless you want to. Here's the next instalment. Hope you enjoy! **

It was a cold, wet day when Declan left. The rain was constant and unforgiving, sending the once handsome street to a dark and heavy grey, and the very sight made Ste shiver. To him, it felt like God was crying, weeping at the damage done by two sinful men who deserved no pity.

Eileen left with him. Declan had begged her, sworn he would never return to the school unless she was near enough for visits. Everyone saw through that. He wanted to get her away from Ste and Brendan. He wanted to get himself away from them too. He'd barely looked at either of them, but Eileen had muttered that they would be returning during the school holidays.

Brendan watched through the window of the room with the chairs. Now was probably not the time to ask its proper name. Ste had watched him watch them leave from a distance, but there was something now in Brendan's demeanour, an unbearable grief, that made Ste need to support him, to hold him up if necessary. He closed the gap, and put a hand on Brendan's.

Brendan looked down at the hands. Ste half expected him to shake him off, but he didn't. He let the hands stay joined, let Ste be there for him, as Eileen stepped into the carriage. Declan glanced back as he went to follow. Ste wondered if he could see the hands through the window, but Brendan missed the look, and the moment passed quickly, as the boy disappeared into the carriage and the door closed behind him.

The driver took his seat, and the man who had loaded the luggage sat beside him, and the driver urged the horses on. The movement woke Brendan from his stupor. He shook Ste's hand off.

"That's that, then," said Brendan, shoving his hands into his pockets, "you've got one week."

"One week for what?" asked Ste.

"To find somewhere else," said Brendan, "I don't need servants."

"But…" Ste started.

"But what?" Brendan interrupted, unkindly, and didn't wait for Ste to get his words out. He marched out of the room without looking back. A moment later Ste heard the front door open and close.

Ste felt like he'd been punched. Shocked was an understatement for his feelings at that moment, but it was accompanied by a huge wave of anger and betrayal. Brendan had given him just enough time and hope that they could live safely here, and then pulled the rug from under their feet. He didn't doubt for a second that this was anger at Declan finding them out, but that didn't make Ste and his family any less homeless. And Ste would yet again be out of a job.

When he'd recovered enough to think, he decided not to tell Amy yet. Something more important was happening today.

They went to the hospital quite early, hopeful. They were not disappointed. Lucas was sat on the bed in clothes rather than pyjamas. Amy scooped him up into her arms, while Sister Grace bombarded them with instructions to keep him healthy. Ste didn't even see the unkindness on her face any more – she was one of the people who had saved his son. He thanked her.

She looked embarrassed, and sort of wondered off, as though she didn't really know how to deal with warm sentiment towards herself. Nurse Collins grinned at them too, and waved a cheerful goodbye to Lucas as he got to leave with his parents and sister. Ste was certain that if he had just not seen Brendan this morning, he would be walking on air right now.

Amy made them lunch when they got back to the house, and they ate in the kitchen. Ste couldn't help but think about how beautiful the scene was; his family, safe and warm, eating decent food, together. He didn't like to think about how soon that would be coming to an end.

Once the food was finished, the kids started playing and Amy tidied up. With a warning to Leah not to wear her brother out, Ste knew it was time to go searching again. Searching for work. He snuck out without explaining to Amy, knowing he was going to be in for it later, but knowing that he needed to deliver good news alongside the bad.

He spent the day treading the streets again, knocking on doors of businesses, asking about jobs. He knew enough that no one would employ him as a servant, but again he had no references, nothing to recommend him to anyone. And maybe he wasn't really trying. Maybe he was hoping Brendan would change his mind.

He even tried Sir Alexander. He stood outside the great stone building for half an hour, but that did little more than prove to himself how pathetic he was. The only interest Sir Alexander would ever have in someone like him was in his arse and mouth, and Ste wasn't desperate enough to trade on them. Yet.

On top of everything was his paranoia. He was still living under the threat of one of Danny's men going after him, and he panicked every time he saw a man who looked even slightly threatening, which in Ste's mind involved standing, walking or sitting, and more than once he was sure he was being followed. His quest was over before sunset.

"Where've you been?" asked Amy as he stepped through the back door and into the kitchen.

"Nowhere," said Ste.

"Oh, yeah, another brush off," said Amy, "well, fine, keep your secrets."

"I'm not…"

"Yes you are! You've got thousands of them!" cried Amy, "Brendan gives you a job without even checking you know what you're doing, he pays for your son who he's never met to be treated in hospital, and his wife tries to seduce you then runs away. It does not make sense, Ste!"

Amy, the woman who had stood by him despite everything, the person he trusted above all others, the most important adult in his life for years. And he couldn't tell her anything. Not yet.

"Really, there's nothing to tell, Amy. It was like you said, Eileen thought you were sleeping with Brendan, so she made a fool of herself, and Declan felt lonely at that school, so she's going to live near him for a bit."

Amy sighed, "And where did you sleep the last two nights?"

"My room," Ste lied, quickly.

"Yeah, course," said Amy, "and then you cleaned and ironed the sheets in the morning too."

Caught out, Ste felt lost at what to say. In the end, he didn't say anything, as someone walked in the door behind him.

A second man followed him, and Ste recognised the that one. He had been the last of Danny's men to leave Ste tied to a desk. He'd laughed as he'd taken Ste's clothes and hidden them. The other Ste didn't recognise, but he didn't doubt he wasn't after the same thing.

"Can I help you?" said Amy, her voice the same, angry one she'd been using on Ste moments before.

Ste stepped carefully in front of her. "Get upstairs," he ordered quietly, "take the kids, take them into your room and lock the door."

"What?" she said.

"Do it, girl," the second man jeered, "we're here for the whore."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Amy, "get out of my home!"

"Amy!" Ste pleaded, "the kids, please!"

"But who are they, Ste?" Amy protested, as though she was not going to believe the threat she herself could see in front of her.

"Please, Amy!" Ste begged, as the two men stepped closer.

"But what about you?" she said, worry finally registering in her voice, and Ste could appreciate how hard a decision it would be for her to follow instructions. She wouldn't want to leave him alone with these people, anymore than he would have left her. He knew the only argument that could work, though.

"The kids are more important," he said simply, "now go!" and she accepted his words this time. He heard her turn and run from the room.

Now Ste just needed to get himself out of this. Brendan could be angry enough to still turn Amy and the kids out in a week's time, so Ste's life still mattered, but he was a skinny lad and there were two of them. He considered running, out of the kitchen door, into the alley, making enough noise to bring help. But he remembered the other servants' reactions to Declan's cries, and his hope faded. Even as it did, one of the intruders turned back and shut the door, turning the key Ste wished he'd had the forethought to turn earlier. That left one means of escape, up the stairs, into the main house, and through the front door. He hadn't given Amy enough time yet, though.

"What do you want?" he asked, mostly to buy himself time.

"You know what we want, whore," said the second man, the one who had been there that night, and his voice made Ste flinch in its cruelty. This man would take pleasure from whatever happened now. The stranger looked at his companion sideways, but turned back to Ste a moment later and cracked his knuckles.

"You need teaching a lesson," said the stranger, "no one betrays the boss and gets away with it."

"I didn't," said Ste, "I turned up when I was supposed to, I…"

"Went to the old Bill," said the stranger.

"No, I didn't…" protested Ste, "I wouldn't, I…"

"Enough!" shouted the second man, and Ste agreed. He turned and ran out of the kitchen, to the stairs. He made it up three before his foot was grabbed and he crashed to the ground, barely breaking his fall with his hands in time to stop his face getting smashed against the steps.

He felt fists on his ribs, and kicks on his legs. He was dragged back towards the men, and he covered his head. He heard a door slam upstairs and felt relief that Amy had shut herself and the kids away. He hoped they'd found a room with a lock.

"I'm gonna break his arm," said the stranger, pleasure in his voice, his hands that had pulled Ste down the stairs pulling at his hands.

"Yeah, that'll get us started," said the second man, as he kicked Ste's legs, sending nearly immobilizing jolts of pain up Ste's body. Then he stood in between them.

"'Ere, what you doing?" said the stranger.

"Showing him who's boss," replied the second man, voice sending shivers down Ste's spine.

"That's…"

"You got a problem, Billy?" said the second man.

"Danny said to beat him up," said Billy, "not … that."

"It's the only thing this kind understand," said the other man, and when Ste tried to fight his way out, punched him in the kidneys, "and look, he's already in the perfect position."

"But…"

"You should have seen him, Bill," interrupted the first man, "filthy little queer, squirming around, ready to fuck the posh bastard."

Ste tried to stand and run again while they were arguing, but the first man sat on his legs. "Don't look at me like that!" the first man said, "I ain't no queer! This ain't sex, it's punishment."

He heard Billy backing off.

"I ain't having nothing to do with that!" he whispered, almost as scared as Ste.

"Oh, then fuck off then!" said the first man, angrily.

Billy didn't need telling twice. He turned and ran. The man on Ste's back let out a disgusted noise, but Ste got fresh hope. Fighting off one man seemed a heck of a lot more likely than two. The man grabbed his arm, began to pull it behind him but Ste saw his chance. He threw his head back, managing to make fierce contact with the man's soft nose. He stumbled back, just enough for Ste to get his legs moving. He scrambled out of the hold and up the stairs. The man caught him again, grabbed his shirt, but Ste struggled out, and the struggle continued most of the way up the stairs, the man ripping Ste's shirt, tearing out his hair. Just as Ste got to the top, his attacker managed to grab one of his arms, and while Ste wriggled, he struck back with his foot, slamming his heel down into the soft upper side of the bastard's foot, and then slammed his free elbow back into whatever part of the man he could reach for good measure, ready to run.

The sounds of crashes stopped him. They were going in the wrong direction, away from Ste. Ste barely dared move for a moment, but eventually he had to turn, to look back the way he had come.

There lay Danny's goon, the man who had laughed at his predicament, the man who had tried to rape him, flat on his back, at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn't moving.

**Keep the reviews coming! x**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thanks for the reviews. **

**(To the reviewer who thought I meant gun shots, sorry, I shall have to check the wording when I get a chance to clarify that. It was just the bangs of him crashing down the stairs.)**

**Enjoy!**

Ste's breath was coming in gasps. He stared down the steps, frozen in place with the shock and the horror. There was a deathly still man at the bottom. His face was in shadow, but his legs and arms were bent at hideous angles.

The tiny part of his brain that wasn't shouting 'shit, I just killed someone' began insisting he move. Do something. He had images of being hung for murder, then worse ones of the kids watching. He had to get this guy out, somewhere else. Could he move this man by himself?

He ran upstairs, up to the bedrooms where he grabbed a new shirt, throwing his torn one down on the bed. He knocked on the shut door where he hoped Amy had locked herself and the kids. "Amy?"

"Ste? Are you alright?" she gasped.

"It's fine," said Ste, trying to sound reassuring, "just… just stay in there, yeah? Don't come out!"

"Why, are they still here?"

"Er, sort of, just… give me an hour, yeah?"

"An hour?!" Amy cried, as Ste ran back down the stairs. He couldn't argue with her now, he just had to hope she'd listen.

He ran out of the house and all the way to the club, his heart pounding all the way. He didn't bother trying the front, but went round the back, down the familiar steps. There was a blond girl he didn't know washing up at the sink, but she didn't notice or care when he burst in. He ran up the steps, banged on the door of the office, but no one answered, so he ran up further, past the bars beginning to fill with the early evening crowd, and right up to the Greek room.

Brendan was not alone. A number of men were sat around him, pouring over papers. One or two hurriedly grabbed them up at the disturbance. Brendan looked about as surprised as he could, which wasn't much.

"Brendan…" Ste started, acutely aware of how panicked he must look.

The men stared at him. "What is it, Steven?" Brendan asked, coldness still edging his voice.

"Erm, Mr Brady, you're needed at home," Ste managed. It sounded like something a servant would say, and if not unsuspicious, certainly less suspicious than 'there's a dead man in your kitchen'.

"What?" growled Brendan angrily, clearly thinking this was about them.

"It's nothing to do with … that," said Ste, "it's… something else."

Brendan looked around at the men. Some were looking puzzled, and one or two were embarrassed and trying not to look at him. Well, if they assumed Ste and Brendan were shagging, that would be better than assuming the truth. "Gentlemen," growled Brendan, "another time."

"Brendan!" protested one, but was silenced by one look from the Irishman.

"You'll hear from me when it's time," growled Brendan, and stood, and said in a fair less gentlemanly tone, "now get lost."

The men trouped out, some gathering the papers as they left, and Ste finally found himself alone with Brendan.

When they had gone, Brendan shut them out, and turned back to Ste. "Well?"

Ste glanced at the door, "I can't say here."

Brendan looked at him suspiciously, but now with a hint of concern, "Is everyone OK?"

Ste shook his head. Everyone was most definitely not OK.

"Right," said Brendan. "Show me."

Ste found he couldn't run back, even with the thought of Amy coming down and discovering the body. He was dreading it. Part of him imagined the broken, twisted man standing to greet them, to get his revenge on Ste, climbing the stairs.

"What happened, Steven?" asked Brendan.

Ste hesitated before he told him. He wasn't sure how Brendan would respond. By the time they reached the house, Brendan had a pretty good idea of what had occurred. His expression was a determined one, but he didn't say anything as they went in the front door.

Unsurprisingly, the goon hadn't moved. He lay still at the bottom of the stairs, legs and arms still bent in those awful looking shapes. Brendan looked down the stairs, then walked down them, slowly and calmly. Ste followed, and stood beside him as he looked down at the body. Brendan didn't seem to share Ste's fear, but then Brendan probably wasn't expecting to hang for this.

"You did nothing wrong, Steven," said Brendan, mistaking Ste's fear for guilt. Ste didn't answer. He had done something very wrong; he just didn't think he could have done anything differently.

Brendan bent down, and touched the man's neck. Checking for a pulse, Ste assumed, but the action became suddenly unnecessary as the man opened his eyes.

Brendan swore. Ste fell back onto a step. The man dragged in a staggered, painful breath, then choked out "Brendan … fucking… Brady."

Brendan gave him a smirk. "That's me," he said, "now who the fuck are you?"

The man might have been about to answer, but it got lost in a fit of coughing. Brendan put his head to one side. "Steven, fetch our guest a blanket or something," he said, not taking his eyes off the man, "we need to have a little chat."

Ste hadn't taken his eyes off the man, and there was very little difference a blanket could possibly make for him. "But…" he began.

"Steven, fetch our guest a blanket or something," Brendan repeated.

Ste nodded that time, and hurried to comply, turning back up the stairs. He heard Brendan below him.

"So, I'm going to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer and truthfully. You got that? Good."

Ste didn't wait for more, but ran the rest of the way upstairs. When he got to the top, he stared at the door to Amy's room but didn't try to talk to her again. He was confident she hadn't left and that the door was still locked. He had no idea where blankets were, except for one on his own bed so he grabbed one, dragged it off and all the way back down towards the kitchen.

Brendan was stood over the man, looking down at him. Ste was half way down the stairs before he realised the man was still once more. He stopped in his tracks. Brendan looked up at him. "Yeah, he's dead now," said the Irishman, voice a grumble.

"Did you…" Ste started, then decided he didn't want to know. "What should we do now?" he asked instead.

Brendan looked down at the body. "Fetch the police," he said simply.

Ste couldn't believe his ears. "But…" he said.

"You did nothing wrong, Steven," Brendan interrupted, "you get back from picking your kid up, show him around his new home, go downstairs to start the dinner, and find him at the bottom. He clearly fell down the stairs while breaking in to my house. Like the dutiful servant you are you go to me instead of straight to the police. They'll think nothing of that."

"But what if…"

"They'll believe me, Steven," Brendan assured, "he's got no links to either of us. You've been in town, what, a fortnight? Whoever he is, someone'll recognise him as Danny's gang, a criminal on the run, trying his luck in a posh house. No one'll care."

Ste didn't know whether to believe him or not. In the end, he decided if he couldn't trust Brendan, there was no one in the world that could be trusted.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

The police believed everything Brendan told them. Ste barely had to speak, just nod whenever Brendan asked for confirmation. The police fetched an undertaker who took the body away, and it was suddenly all over. He locked every door in the house, searched every room, then went to fetch Amy who made them all some cold dinner, and then took the children to bed. Ste had barely watched her leave the kitchen before he had to follow her. He watched her get them ready, and make up a story to tell them, and watched her watch them falling asleep. He heard Brendan call softly for him from the landing below.

He went down and stood not far from him.

"You alright?" Brendan mumbled.

"Yeah," Ste replied, "are you?"

Brendan snorted. "I'm always alright," he said.

Ste glanced up the stairs again. He wanted nothing more than to hide away from the world in Brendan's big strong arms, but even if that was a possibility, he had duties today. "I better go," he said, "I nearly lost them today. Amy needs me."

"Right," said Brendan, "course."

No protest, no hint that he wanted Ste to stay, so Ste nodded, and went back upstairs. He cursed himself for letting himself hope for anything different. If Brendan hadn't already kicked him out, this would do it. Today was just a great big reminder that Ste was not someone he needed in his life.

Amy was still watching the children sleep, her expression tired. Ste put a hand on her arm, trying to be comforting. She shook him off. Feeling rejected, Ste looked at her worriedly.

"Not in front of the kids," she whispered, but didn't even start to move. She watched the kids. Ste did the same. Somewhere below he heard Brendan's bedroom door close, and after a few minutes more, she finally stepped out of the room, taking Ste with her, and closing the door. Then she went into Ste's mostly unused room. Ste followed, and looked at her, waiting. Her face was strained, tired, worried.

"I want the truth," she said, "now."

Ste's heart thudded. "Truth?" he said, trying to sound confused.

"Yes, Ste, the truth," she said firmly. "Because what I've been imagining from all the little holes in what you're telling me is too horrid, and I need you to tell me the truth."

Ste swallowed. "I don't know what…" he started, but Amy interrupted.

"Don't you dare lie again!" she hissed, "don't you dare! I want the truth, now, or I shall _walk_ back to Hollyoaks, and take the kids with me!"

"Amy, there's nothing, really!" Ste pleaded.

"Oh, really? So, Brendan paid for Lucas' treatment out of the goodness of his heart? And gave you a job because you're really talented all of a sudden, even though you clearly don't have a bloody clue what you're doing? And you've been sleeping on the moon? And some stranger just walks into our home and calls you a whore, because, what, because of your hair cut?"

Ste couldn't answer. He wasn't sure what he was being accused of, but he was terrified what the link between all those things was.

"Ste," said Amy, trying to calm herself down, "Are you… have you been sleeping with men for money?"

"What? No!" Ste cried.

"Is that why Brendan paid for Lucas' treatment?" she asked, infuriatingly perceptive though hideously off the mark, "So you'd sleep with him? And then he took you on as a 'servant' so that you'd keep sleeping with him again and again and again?"

"No, that's…" Ste tried.

She put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him earnestly, "Look, I'm not angry. I understand, Ste, I do, it was all for Lucas, but he's better now, so you don't have to do it anymore."

"You've got it wrong Amy," he insisted.

"Then tell me how it is!" she pleaded, eyes huge and desperate, and the tears welling. Ste could feel his own matching. This was Amy. Maybe she would hate him forever if she knew the truth. Maybe she would run a mile. She could go back to Hollyoaks alone, her Dad would take her in in a moment, and Terry might not even touch them. It wasn't Amy's fault they'd had to run. Though Terry might target them just to hurt Ste. Ste couldn't let that happen. He needed them safe, and as long as they were with him he could know they were.

But if he said nothing then she would definitely go.

Ste gave in to the inevitable. "Sit down," he said, "it's a long story."

**Reviews make my day, so ... please...? x**


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Didn't want to upload yesterday when they were doing so badly on the show, and when we got those awful spoilers, and haven't got to the fun bit yet, but here is some anyway. Hope you enjoy it.**

**To everyone who asks for longer chapters - I will do my best, but at best this will result in longer between updates. And particularly as I've had to do a small amount of research for the next couple of chapters - particularly as most drugs weren't illegal in the 1890s, which has issues for levels of criminality. ****Am working way around it. ****If you're a secret historian, do PM me! **

**Enjoy!**

"So, the father of my children, the man who I left my family for, enjoys sleeping with men?" Amy's reaction was weird. She hadn't flown off the handle, hadn't called him disgusting, hadn't threatened to go to the police. Yet. So far she'd done little except sit quietly on Ste's bed and listen.

Ste nodded in answer. He'd tried to explain as fully and tactfully as he could, though clarity and tact were not his strong suits.

"And you've been sleeping with a tall, dark, handsome one?" she said "with a moustache?"

Ste nodded again.

"Well, at least you've got a good taste in them," said Amy.

Ste couldn't help but snort a laugh at that. Amy smiled too, though it was melancholy. "How long have you felt like that, Ste?" she asked.

"Dunno," Ste replied honestly.

Amy looked at the floor, "So, was it never, you know, real?"

Ste frowned, "Was what real?"

She fidgeted with the sheet, "Us," she said, in a voice no louder than a mouse.

"Of course we were real," Ste said.

"But you didn't… really…"

"Amy, I love you," Ste insisted, "I will never stop loving you."

"I know," said Amy, "Just not… like in the fairy tales."

Ste rolled his eyes, "Yeah, 'cause the rest of our life's just like a fairy tale, with the beatings and the slum and the sick kids."

"Oh, you know what I mean, Steven!" Amy scolded, "You're not… I mean, I know you're not… but you never were… you know… in love with me?"

Ste looked at the floor. The truth was he didn't know. He would never be happy if Amy was out of his life, and it wasn't only Leah and Lucas that made it that way. And he had wanted her. He'd never forced himself to be with her out of obligation or any other reason. She was his family.

"Not like you are with Brendan," said Amy.

"What?" said Ste, distracted from planning his answer.

"I know you never said it," she said, voice honestly and confidently, "but you are in love with him, aren't you?"

"Er… as if," said Ste.

"And he's in love with you," added Amy, not heeding his response.

"Of course he's not," said Ste, "did you not listen to the bit where he's throwing us out on the street in 6 days time?"

"Yeah," said Amy, "but I also heard the bit where he risked his marriage and family to get you near him. That's not just about sex, Ste."

"But…" Ste tried to think of an argument, "but he said…"

"Yeah, 'cause that's an easy thing to admit to, isn't it?" she said.

Ste didn't answer. He hadn't mentioned his own confession because he was still deeply ashamed of it, and now it somehow seemed unfair to discuss any of it with Amy. She didn't seem as angry or disgusted as he'd expected, but it did sadden her. She didn't hate him anywhere near as much as she should. He had to ask, though, however terrified he was of the answer.

"Are you… are you going to leave me?"

Amy was quiet for a long moment, and Ste held his breath, waiting for the final blow. After what felt like an age, she took his hand.

"No," she said, "we're not going anywhere without you."

Ste breathed a great sigh of relief and gripped the hand she'd put in his.

"But," Amy said, "we don't tell the kids. I mean, they won't understand, anyway, but we don't advertise it. I don't really know why it's illegal, but you know it is, don't you Ste?"

Ste nodded. He knew that very well.

"And you don't keep anything else from me, right?" Amy added, and Ste could do nothing but agree. She had a right to know everything that concerned him and their family. "Right, then," she said quietly, "we best get to bed. Long day again tomorrow."

Ste nodded again and they stood together still holding hands. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd been to have her by his side. He remembered Eileen's reaction to her perceptions of the problem, and here was Amy forgiving him for so much and still letting him be part of her and the children's lives.

They slept on either side of the children, as they had many times before when they'd had to share one bed between them all. It felt like the old days, but better. They may be out on their ear, but at least he wasn't lying to Amy. He hadn't realised how disloyal he'd felt since this thing with Brendan had begun. He would never lie to her again. She was his family. These three people in the bed, they were the people who mattered the most. However much Brendan kept slipping onto that list.

Ste slept quite well, with only thoughts of Brendan being so close and so tempting keeping him awake. He could picture the man on the floor below, bare body hidden only by sheets, chest glistening in the candle light. He had to remind himself of the children and Amy beside him.

He was woken in the night to the sound of sobbing. He assumed it was one of the children, and peered through the darkness to find which one. But this wasn't a child's sobbing, attention grabbing and pleading for help. This was softer, less intrusive, like someone trying to hide it, and it wasn't coming from the small sleeping forms beside him.

He got up quietly, and made his way to the door to prise it open as silently as he could. Amy was sat on the top step, crying. Her misery and resignation were unrestrained, but she was clearly trying very hard to keep the noise down, where someone who wasn't a mother might have screamed. And Ste was in no doubt over what had prompted this.

He only watched her for a few moments before he shut the door again. He had caused that misery, and there was no way he could take it back now. Even if he never looked at a single man again, the things he'd just shared would always be there, intruding on his life with Amy.

He went back to bed hating himself anew.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Brendan was up early the following morning. Ste heard him moving about and leaving, but didn't want an awkward conversation. He listened for the front door, and when he heard it slam open and shut he decided it was finally safe to get up, the kids spilling out of bed and straight into mischief around behind him. He made his way down through the house, and froze at the top of the stairs down to the kitchen. He could see the dead man there, still, eyes open and looking at him with hate. He swallowed, reminding himself the body was gone, it was over.

He found Amy down in the kitchen.

"Morning," he said, tentatively.

"Oh, morning," Amy replied, smiling at him, doing such a good show of hiding her emotions that if Ste hadn't seen her the night before he would have believed she was fine.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, not really making eye contact, and changing the subject quickly, "you seen the kids?"

Ste let it pass, "Yeah, they're fine, they're up and messing around, waiting for breakfast."

"Right, well, there's some on the table," she said, "I'll go get them down, then."

She went without looking at him again, and Ste sat at the table, feeling guilty. He helped himself to some of the toast Amy had laid on a plate, and wondered if Brendan had done the same. Had Brendan looked at the stairs and seen the dead man? Had he eaten toast and wondered why Amy was behaving oddly?

It didn't matter. Whatever Amy had said, and whatever happened yesterday, Ste needed to move on, to find a new job, a new home, a new way to care for his family. Again. A new day treading the streets.

The kids arrived noisily and sat at the table, grabbing hungrily at the food Amy put in front of them. Ste finished his own breakfast and kissed them both on the head. He went to kiss Amy in the same way too but she stood up just before he reached her. He tried not to be saddened by it, and went out again.

He tried shops, just asking if there was any work going. He got a few 'no thanks,' a lot of plain 'no's and a handful of 'get the hell out of my shop's.

A new shop sounded more possible. A man with a kind face called Tony looked him up and down and said "I'm looking for a new lad, do you have any experience?"

He didn't seem impressed by Ste's 'I was a farm hand for years, then a barman for a couple of days, then a servant for about the same.'

"How about references?" Tony asked, doubtfully, and Ste looked sheepish. He hadn't actually asked for one from Brendan, but dreaded what that man would put in one.

Tony still didn't look convinced, "Well, call back in a couple of days, when I know what's what, maybe I'll give you a trail." He smiles at Ste, like the chance of a chance of a job in a couple of days should make him thrilled. Ste was never one for manners.

"Oh, thanks, yeah, that's great!" he cried sarcastically, "I've got two kid's me, but yeah, a trial in a couple of days, that'll keep 'em fed, won't i?!"

Tony looked mildly shocked, and began "Well, if that's your attitude…" but Ste didn't listen. He stormed out, furiously.

He sat on a step a little further down the street and rubbed his eyes, hoping there weren't tears in them betraying his frustration. A woman shoed him away with threats of the police and her husband, though if her husband was a similar age to her, there was very little he could have done to get Ste to move anywhere.

He leant against a wall at the mouth of an alley instead.

"You alright there?" asked a voice from the shadows.

Ste jumped. He'd met enough dodgy figures to last him a lifetime since arriving in Liverpool.

A man emerged and stood beside him casually. He was young, maybe the same age as Ste, and almost as slim.

"I'm fine," Ste replied, coldly, trying to indicate he didn't want a chat with just the tone of his voice. When he spoke to Amy like that she'd get all uppity and call him Steven.

"You sure?" said the stranger, not taking any notice of his tone, "'Cause you look kind of… pissed off."

Prying bastard, thought Ste. Aloud he said, "Yeah, I'm sure."

"And I kind of overheard you talking to that guy," said the man.

"Oh, great," said Ste, "had a good laugh did ya? Well, now you've had your gloat, you can get lost and mind your own business."

"But it is my business," said the man, cryptically. Ste looked at him, demanding he explain himself or face Ste's wrath with just one expression. "I mean," said the man hurriedly, "I'm looking for someone to help with my business."

Ste's ears pricked up, though it sounded too good to be true. He'd just been pretty rude to this guy, why was he now offering him a job?

"Yeah, that got your attention didn't it?" said the man, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Who are you?" said Ste, still suspicious.

"My name is Douglas Carter, purveyor of essentials and luxuries to the honest and… less honest population of Liverpool, but you may call me Doug."

Ste took that in, and decided to ask what purveyor meant later, "And what's up with your voice?" he said.

"I, my friend am from the home of the brave, the land of opportunity."

Ste looked at him blankly. "America," said Doug, in far more ordinary tones.

"Oh," said Ste, "so if America's so great, why are you here?"

Doug's eyes shifted nervously. "A series of… unfortunate and complicated events," he replied, "but I saw the business opportunities there are here, and I couldn't resist."

Ste looked hard at him, trying to spot a lie in his face, the trap in his words. "What's the job?" he asked.

"Selling, mostly. Face to face."

"So why me?"

Doug visibly held back a laugh, "You've not got much confidence, have you?"

"Well I don't trust weirdos who come up to me in the street and offer me jobs, no," said Ste, though realising he probably had started to do just that.

"You don't need to trust me," said Doug, "not yet, anyway. Give it a go? I mean, what have you got to lose?"

Everything, thought Ste, but at this rate he would never find a job in time. And Doug didn't seem a bad sort, nothing like the threatening guys in Danny's gang. This could be enough to keep his family going.

Ste nodded his agreement.

**Reviews are always appreciated! x**


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Thanks to everyone who keeps reviewing. I'm sorry it's going slow right now, I shall do my best to keep going and get quicker. Enjoy!**

Doug's business wasn't exactly legitimate. Ste was very dubious as to the source of the stuff the American gave him to sell. And the quality. And what would happen when the prospective customers discovered the dubious nature and quality of their purchases.

He did, however, work out the meaning of purveyor without having to ask Amy.

Doug had given him a case of stuff, mostly tat of no use to anyone, little things like matches and candles. Ste did his best to stop people on the street, Doug seemed to be doing the same, or watching him, or something. Ste wasn't really sure. Nor did he care. He didn't make much money, but it was at least a start.

"See you tomorrow then?" asked Doug, casually as they cleared away.

"Sure," said Ste. He held out the small amount of money they'd made that day. Doug smiled.

"You keep it, you earned it," he said.

Ste didn't put his hand down, "Are you sure?" he asked, uncertain if he was suspicious or pleased.

"Course," said Doug, "wouldn't say otherwise. See you."

So as Doug walked one way, Ste walked back to the Brady house, with money in his pocket. He gave it straight to Amy when they got in. She looked at him, alarmed.

"You didn't nick it, did you?" she demanded, instantly.

"No!" said Ste, indignantly, "I earned it."

"Doing what?" she asked, still not convinced.

Ste realised what she would suspect. "Not that!" he cried.

"Well, what then?" she asked, not giving.

"Selling stuff," he said, "for this bloke, Douglas Carter." When she kept looking suspiciously at him, he added, "He's an American." That did not seem to make his story more credible in her eyes. "Oh, believe what you want," he said, and sat down in a strop. After a moment she sat down beside him.

"Sorry," she said, "I do believe you, it just sounds… unlikely."

Ste didn't want to admit to thinking that, so stayed silent.

"And, Ste," Amy continued, "do you think it might be a bit… dodgy?"

Ste didn't want to admit to that, either.

"Well, it's not forever," he said, "just until something better comes up."

Amy worried her lip, but didn't say any more on the subject. She had made them all dinner, a wonderful stew, and after they had cleared away all signs of their daily activities, and the sun had begun to set, she put the kids to bed. Ste wondered if she would want to chat again after that, but she kept finding things to do, mending, cleaning. She smiled at him as she did explained each activity, but Ste knew when she didn't want to talk. Then she claimed exhaustion and went to bed.

Ste knew he didn't have to wait up for Brendan, that he could just avoid him, go to work with Doug the following day, and find a home, simply disappearing from the Brady house by the time Brendan actually got home on that last day. But he felt like he owed Brendan the truth, so he sat in the room with the chairs, part of him wondering if it was normal for servants to just sit in rooms like that, before deciding it didn't matter as he was leaving soon anyway. He waited. And waited.

It was silent when he was woken by a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Hey, sleepy head," a gruff voice was saying.

Ste jerked awake, unaware he'd even fallen asleep. Brendan was looking down at him, smirking in the light from the gas lamps. "Alright?" he said.

"Yeah," said Ste, trying to surreptitiously wipe his face in case he had drooled. "Sorry."

"Mrs snoring too loud, was she?" Brendan teased.

"Er, no," said Ste, indignantly, "I was waiting to talk to you, actually."

Brendan actually laughed. "Let me guess, can't find a job? Wanna beg me to let you stay?"

Ste was momentarily gobsmacked by the sheer arrogance of the man. To throw him out was one thing, but then to rub it in? And find it all amusing?

"I'll have to think about that, Steven," Brendan continued, grin firmly planted on his face, "There's a lot to consider, there. But maybe," he dropped his voice, dipped his head closer to Ste's, "maybe there's something you can do to convince me…"

Ste barely registered the come on. He was just too annoyed by Brendan's rudeness. "Actually, Brendan, I was waiting up to tell you that I got a job today and not to worry."

Brendan's face fell, "You got a job?"

"Yeah," Ste felt himself smirking.

"Where?"

Ste couldn't stand the self satisfied way he imagined Brendan would react to Ste's job. Amy might question his judgement in concern for Ste, but Brendan would be merciless in belittling, patronising jibes. He would ridicule Ste for agreeing to work with someone like Doug, and Ste didn't want to give Brendan the satisfaction of knowing just how desperately he needed the older man to change his mind.

"None of your business," he answered angrily, "We'll be out by Friday."

Brendan looked annoyed, "Where's the job, Steven?"

"Why do you care?!" Ste snapped.

"Just being polite," said Brendan, darkly, sounding the complete opposite of polite.

"Well, there's no need, right," said Ste, fury rising, "I'll be leaving soon, and then you'll never have to see me again."

He span on his heel and stormed upstairs. Thankfully Brendan didn't follow so Ste could just stew in his anger.

He didn't go in with Amy and the kids again, not wanting to wake them with his mood, so instead got in the single bed in the room across the top landing for the first time. He did not sleep easily, his mind was whirring with his anger at Brendan, his worry that he was going to risk his family on the dodgy business of an American he'd only just met. And when he eventually got some sleep, his dreams were riddled with haunting images – the dead man on the floor, standing up and doing what he'd tried, then being replaced with Sir Alexander, Danny, Terry, Doug, while Brendan stood by and watched, wearing that insufferable smirk.

The morning couldn't come quick enough.

…xxx…xxx…

Ste didn't hear the front door the following morning. He listened for it, hoping Brendan would be out before he would have to get up and go out, but as the sun rose in the sky, Ste realised he would have to get up, or he would lose even the small job he'd already found.

He got up and dressed as quickly and quietly as he could, then went down to the kitchen. Amy had got up and was stood against one of the counters looking nervous, and Ste could instantly see why. Brendan was sat at the table tucking into some toast.

It was quite hard to tell if they'd been in silence all the time, or if they'd been talking before he'd come in. It was very disconcerting to see them in the same room, and he wished he'd come more slowly and quietly down the stairs and overheard the previous few minutes. As he couldn't do that, he simply said "Alright?"

They both turned to him, but he couldn't focus on either expression, so he looked at the table, "Er, any chance of something to eat?" and sat down.

Brendan snorted.

"What?" Ste snapped.

Brendan looked him dead in the eye. "Just that I thought you could be a servant."

Ste wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. "What?" he said again, more high pitched.

Brendan smirked at his ignorance.

"You're the one in the kitchen, Mr Brady," said Amy, managing to make 'Mr Brady' sound just mocking enough to sting, but not mocking enough for him to call her on it, but Ste didn't want another match with Brendan.

"Forget it," he said, getting up and storming out, stopping only to kiss Amy on the forehead but ignoring her plea to have some breakfast. He stamped his way to where he'd met Doug yesterday and sat back on the doorstep, sulking.

Bloody Brendan. It wasn't even like it had been Ste's idea to become a servant. He had no desire to become a servant, and for Brendan to tease him for not know how to behave was bloody unfair. The annoyance kept raging through him, never quitting, never letting him go.

"Penny for them?" chirped a happy American voice, "that's a phrase isn't it? Penny for your thoughts?"

Ste smiled at him, "It's a phrase. Doesn't mean I'm gonna tell you owt."

"Ahh, spoil sport," said Doug, smiling, "well you can chat about anything to me, you know."

"Thanks, Doug," said Ste. "So, what we up to today?"

The answer was more of the same, though a new street this time. Doug handed over a small selection of items, and they set up a table for a small stall, Ste trying to stop anyone who passed. For every person who let him talk, a lot seemed to watch him suspiciously. Some would stand in pairs, one eye on Ste, one chatting to their companion. Gossiping, probably, or maybe worried Ste was up to no good. He'd had that a lot. He knew there was something about his appearance that made the genteel suspicious. He decided to ignore it, and attempted to flirt with some housewives that were passing.

He sensed Brendan's arrival before he saw it. There was something about the man that made his entire body shiver, even when he was pissed off with him. Ste turned his head to see where he was. He was standing casually a few metres away with his hands in his pockets.

Ste gave him a glare and turned away from him. It was answered with a chuckle.

"Nice job," greeted Brendan.

"Haven't you got anything better to do?" Ste snapped.

"Probably," Brendan snorted, "but I thought I'd see how much some people will pay for…" he picked up a box from the table, "matches? I'm almost disappointed at how boring that is."

Ste snatched the box back, "Well, we can't all run dodgy drinking clubs."

"Dodgy?" sneered Brendan, "_you_ think _my_ nightclub is dodgy?"

"Er, let me see, Warren, Danny, old posh blokes looking for rent boys, yeah, dodgy," said Ste.

Brendan snorted, but not in amusement, and put his head on one side. "So, this business here now, your nice new job, that'd be squeaky clean then, I take it?"

Ste didn't care if he'd doubted it, he had to show Brendan, "Yeah, it is," he snapped, but didn't fancy Brendan testing the theory so added, "so do one."

"Huh," said Brendan, then turned and glanced around him, "that your partner there, is it?" he said pointing to where Doug was stood beside a young woman, one of the ones standing on the opposite side of the street, gossiping, "Excuse me, Miss," he called, "you checked your purse recently?"

Doug's head snapped in Brendan's direction as the woman, looking alarmed, reached for her handbag. Doug almost threw himself away from her, dropping something on the floor as he did so. The woman gasped. "Where's my…?" but she didn't finished as she spun around and saw Doug so close, and her purse at his feet.

Doug was running before Ste could blink, and within seconds was nowhere to be seen, as a bustle of surrounding people shouted after him.

Brendan turned back to Ste. "Yeah, legitimate," he sneered.

Ste grabbed the matches and threw them at Brendan's head. He followed them with most of the contents of Doug's stall. Then the table itself, though most of the produce was too light to bruise, and the table just didn't throw well.

"Hey, hey!" cried Brendan, "Don't take it out on me! I ain't the sneak thief."

People were staring at them now, but Ste didn't care. He wanted to wipe that stupid, self-satisfied grin off Brendan's stupid face.

"God I hate you!" he snapped, furiously, wishing he had more he could throw at Brendan. With nothing to hand he stormed away, hearing nothing but his own fury and frustration.

He was an utter failure. Again, no job, no place to stay, no hope of find either. The only people who seemed to have any interest in employing him were criminals. It must be all he was good for. Sneak thieves, smugglers and …

Sir Alexander.

He switched directions. He'd told Brendan they would be out by the end of the week and they were going to be out, and Ste was going to keep them out of the workhouse, through his own work. What that work would be was irrelevant, and none of Brendan Brady's bloody business.

He remembered the way easily, towards the docks, to the big stone building that looked down on him threateningly. His feet didn't hesitate, even though there were more people than he remembered, dock workers in overalls, businessmen in smart clean suits. Some of them glanced at him, looks derisive or suspicious or just curious, others ignored him completely, but he kept on going, marching with purpose to the great doors.

**The more reviews I get the more I update!**


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: I hope everyone will continue to read and write fanfiction if (I read spoilers, but guess some people don't) the wonder that is Brendan Brady is no longer on our television screens of an evening. As for me, if this is not finished by then (unlikely, it's turning into a bit of 19th century soap itself, and I still haven't even got to my original ideas) I shall, assuming I do not want to destroy all things Hollyoaks-related through frustration, continue to write. I hope some of you will join me - I think fanfiction was originally created so people could carry on things they missed after they'd finished - Harry Potter fanfiction is still massive and that's been over for years.**

**Anyway, that's enough of that. Thank you to anyone who has reviewed, I love hearing what you think, good or bad. Hope you enjoy!**

He had barely reached the doors when he was dragged aside by strong hands.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" growled Brendan, as he shoved Ste up against one of the pillars lining the front of the great building.

"None of your business!" shouted Ste, trying to shove the hands off his shoulders.

"You're going to sell yourself?!" said the older man, in the same growl of fury, hands gripping harder.

Ste struggled more as Brendan's hands formed a bruising grip. "It's none of your business, Brendan!" he cried,

"You are not going in there!" hissed Brendan.

"I will do what I have to do to look after my family, Brendan!" snarled Ste, trying to twist out of the grip, "get … off … me!"

The doors opened beside them. Brendan was distracted enough for Ste to slip free and make a dash for the entrance. He didn't need to go far as he came face to face with Sir Alexander.

The aristocrat was looking, if anything, even more under stress than he had on the last time Ste had seen him. Ste had assumed he would evade all suspicion over the Danny business by the fortune of being a gentleman, but the businessman's appearance suggested otherwise. His hair was matted, his face red, his clothes hanging from his frame as though he had lost weight very quickly. His eyes widened at the sight of Ste.

"Sir Alex…" Ste started.

"What's this?" Sir Alexander hissed, "more blackmail?"

Ste felt the bite of fear that this was not going to work, "No…"

Sir Alexander didn't even seem to register that he'd spoken, he was too caught up in his own misery. His eyes had narrowed, barely concealed hatred burning within them, "Come to see if you can squeeze some more money out of the stupid old man?"

Ste was pretty sure he had taken no money from this man, "No, I just…"

Sir Alexander closed the gap between them, seemingly uncaring of the many people around them, "If I see you anywhere near me again, you little shit, I will personally hand you over to the first policeman I find."

"But…"

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Sir Alexander shouted, his fury making people stare. One of his workers, a clerk maybe, put a calming hand on his shoulder, and Ste's eyes flew to the new man's face. Young, fair haired, slim, but with a gentleness Ste could never hope possess in a million years. Feeling his last hopes drain away, and trying desperately to hold back the tears, Ste ran from the scene.

Even as he ran, he could hear feet running behind him, keeping pace. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted over his shoulder, but Brendan neither replied nor stopped, as Ste stormed through the streets, not caring where he was going, just needing to get away, to be somewhere else, to be something else.

He finally collapsed against a dustbin in an alleyway, no longer able to hold back the tears, no longer able to stand. He heard Brendan come to a stop with him, breathing heavily, standing off to the side, awkwardly.

"Leave me alone!" Ste repeated but in a sob this time.

Brendan didn't answer. He just sort of cleared his throat, and shifted from foot to foot.

"Oh, you're loving this, aren't ya!" Ste snarled.

"Nope," said Brendan, dismissively.

"Makes you feel good, does it? Knowing that when I'm out of your house I'll have nothing? That my kids'll end up in the workhouse."

"No," Brendan said again.

"So you just like seeing me with nothing? What is it? You want me to beg you for me job back?"

Brendan didn't respond. Ste wouldn't have cared if he did. His tears were too heavy. He was falling into a pit of despair, and he needed to be alone so that he could hit the bottom and find the strength to come out the other side and find a solution. But Brendan wouldn't let that happen. He stood there, waiting, watching, maybe even staring, Ste refused to look at him so didn't know what emotions he was showing, if any. Ste wondered if he should get up and run again, but he didn't have the energy. Instead he let his head fall back against the wall behind him and shut his eyes tight.

When he had breath and focus enough to care, he realised he could still hear Brendan's feet shuffling around. He felt exhausted from his run and his tears, and he could feel the salt water drying on his face.

"What do you even want, Brendan?" he asked. It was a question that had been puzzling Ste for days. Why had he asked Ste to move in, only to throw him out, using the incomplete excuse of his wife both times.

"Don't ask me, I didn't start it," said Brendan.

"You what?" snapped Ste, furiously. Of course it was Brendan who had made everything so complicated and difficult.

"I didn't blackmail you for a job, I didn't come on to you."

Bloody bastard! "You so did come on to me!" Ste protested, annoyance winning the battle with his sadness.

Brendan put his head on one side, "Huh, Mr wriggling your arse while you did the washing up, flirting with that Noel bloke to make me jealous…"

"You what?" cried Ste, "you opened the door with your shirt off and said 'see something you like Steven?'" Then realised he'd missed the point himself, " You grabbed me, threw me against a door and snogged me!"

Brendan sniffed, "That was after a lot of provocation."

Ste huffed, staring at Brendan like he was mad. Then he realised what they were arguing about and how ridiculous it was. Brendan realised it at the same time and snorted in laughter. Ste did too, but not for long. He was too weighed down by misery

Brendan leant on the wall beside Ste's bin. "Look, you don't have to go."

Ste felt his heart leap, "Don't I?"

"No," said Brendan casually, "you can stay as long as you need."

Brendan was offering him charity, because he'd seen Ste so upset. Letting him stay a little longer. Delaying the end.

"Thanks," said Ste, "but I said I'd be out. I will be out." He stood and brushed himself off, wiping a hand over his face and sniffing. He needed to look further afield for a job. He had a couple of days left. He could try another town while Amy and the kids were safely at Brendan's. Amy would be locking all the doors now. "I'll get a job," he said, maybe for Brendan, maybe for himself.

Brendan put a hand on his wrist. "I…" the older man started, and coughed. Ste turned and looked at the place the hand met his wrist, then looked up at Brendan's face. The older man wasn't making eye contact, his gaze shifting between Ste and the floor and the other side of the alley. "You don't have to go at all."

Ste stared at his face, "What?" It probably wasn't the right question in any way, but he didn't want to misunderstand Brendan right now.

Brendan sighed, and steeled himself before he spoke, like it was hard for him. It probably was. "I only told you to go because I was angry."

Ste didn't answer. He knew that already, but wasn't sure it changed anything.

"I don't…" Brendan whispered, then breathed in and out, shakily, "I…" he cleared his throat. When he finally got it out it was in one, quick go, almost incomprehensible. "I don't want you to go."

Ste stared at him. Was this what he'd been hoping for? Could it really be that moment?

Brendan still hadn't made eye contact. His gaze kept shifting, clearly with nerves. His hand was still on Ste's wrist, the touch enough to keep Ste from walking away, but his resolve was waning with Ste's silence. His hand started to drop. Ste caught it, without thinking.

"Why?" said Ste, "why don't you want me to go?"

Brendan actually growled. It was a lot for him to have admitted to already. And anyway, Ste realised he knew why Brendan was asking him to stay. With a smile growing on his face, he leant up, and kissed Brendan on the lips. In a fraction of a second Brendan's hands were at his head, pulling them closer. Their tongues met in a moment of glorious sensation, and Ste grinned into the kiss.

There was a small gasp from the end of the alley. They sprang apart. A little old woman was looking at them, her wide shocked eyes contrasting with the tight, disapproving purse of her lips.

Brendan coughed. "He's my brother," he said.

Ste and the old woman stared at him like he was mad. How did that make this better?

"I mean," said Brendan, "he's never kissed a girl before, and I was just… showing him… how."

Brendan coughed again. After too long a pause, Ste said, "Yeah, what he said."

The little old lady looked between them, then harrumphed her distaste before pushing past into a doorway neither of them had noticed. The moment she was out of ear shot, Ste turned to Brendan.

"Never kissed a girl before?"

"What?" said Brendan with a grin, "she'd never have believed the other way around."

Ste laughed. He was a cheeky bastard.

"Come on," said Brendan, turning to go, but pausing when Ste didn't fall in step behind him. "What?" he said when Ste didn't follow.

"What happened the night Declan found out," said Ste tentatively, "that can't happen again."

"Yeah, course," said Brendan, "the secrets safe with me. And your Amy, for some reason."

"No, I mean… well, obviously, no one else finds out, but I mean, what happened after."

Brendan didn't answer, but he looked at the floor and Ste knew Brendan understood what he was talking about.

"You really scared me, Brendan. I thought you wasn't gonna stop."

Brendan kept staring at the floor, "I was angry…" he said, as though that were an excuse.

"But you will get angry again, won't ya?" said Ste.

Brendan coughed, uncomfortably.

"But I can't live with someone I'm scared of," he said, adding the again silently in his head.

Brendan's sardonic expression made Ste wonder if the older man's thoughts were along the same lines. Neither of them commented on that part of their lives though. Instead, Brendan nodded. "You don't need to be scared of me," he said in his gruff voice, "but you gotta promise me something, too."

"What?" asked Ste.

"You stop trying to sell yourself," he said, though lacking malice Ste might have expected, "I'll always look after you, you don't need to resort to that."

Ste nodded. He could agree to that. He smiled and took Brendan's hand, hoping rather than believing that this could really work this time.

A deep voice cleared it's throat behind them. They turned, not springing apart, but realising they needed a new excuse for hand holding for the elderly man who had arrived to stare at them.

"He's pissed as a fart," said Ste, "needs guiding home or he'll get lost."

Brendan snorted, and Ste tried hard not to laugh. When the old man didn't disappear into any doorways, he kept hold of Brendan's hand and tugged out of the alley where they both broke into laughter. Brendan's didn't last long though, as he growled, into Ste's ear, "I think we need to go home now, don't you?"

Ste could not have agreed more, and after nodding enthusiastically, fell into step beside his lover and employer, regrettably letting their hands fall apart as more people passed. There was something intoxicating about this. It was a secret, and they had to lie to everyone else, but they were finally honest with each other. Ste knew this wasn't something sordid and disgusting. It probably was a sin, but it didn't feel like it. They were making up their own rules.

They were most of the way home when Doug caught up with them, breathing heavily. He must have outrun whoever had chased him. He glared at Brendan, and Ste considered not even looking at him, but it felt wrong to leave it like that. He took a few steps away from Brendan, with a smile that promised he'd return.

"Ste, I'm sorry…" Dou started.

"No, you ain't," said Ste, "or you wouldn't have done it. It was hardly an accident, was it?"

Doug grimaced, "Look, it's hard out there, I have to make a living…"

"Yeah, we all do, Doug!" snapped Ste, "but some of us want to do it honestly." It wasn't a lie, he _wanted _to make his own living honestly, it was everything else that kept conspiring to make it hard for him to do so.

"So you got another job?" asked Doug, maybe hopefully. Maybe he did genuinely want Ste to be OK.

"Yeah," said Ste, glancing back at Brendan, "Brendan's offered me me old job back."

Doug glanced at the tall man with the moustache who was glaring at them unashamedly from a few feet away. Ste wondered if Brendan was jealous, which was ridiculous, because it was obvious neither he nor Doug found each other attractive.

"Brendan?" said Doug, "that guy's Brendan Brady?"

Ste's head snapped back to Doug, "You've heard of him?"

"Of course I've heard of him!" said Doug, "everyone's heard of Brendan Brady!"

"How?" asked Ste, perplexed.

Doug gave Ste a look of disbelief, "Seriously, you think I'm not honest? Compared to Brendan Brady, I'm practically a nun!"

Ste felt indignant on Brendan's behalf, "Look, I know he's not perfect…"

"Well that's an understatement!" said Doug, "Look, good luck, Ste. You're going to need it." Doug turned away, shaking his head. When he'd gone a few paces, he twisted his head over his shoulder, and looked at Ste appraisingly, "Just try not to end up like Vinnie," he added, before walking out of Ste's life.

Ste stared after him a moment, before Brendan cleared his throat, "We going or what?" he called, impatience in his voice, and Ste hurried back to him. Doug's words had completely failed to put him off his immediate goals of getting into Brendan's bed and having mind-blowing sex, but the words would weigh on his mind. The name was familiar. Had Warren mentioned someone called Vinnie? Did it matter? Brendan'd had other people in his life, even some he'd had sex with; he was in his thirties, of course he did. Declan was living proof of that. But Ste realised he was going to have to find out.

Who was Vinnie?


	31. Chapter 31

**Thanks for the reviews. They are becoming like oxygen to me. Getting a bit addicted. If they stop now, I will get withdrawal symptoms, which will delay updates, so I recommend you keep them coming.**

**I seem to have written a sex scene. Erm. Sorry? Enjoy!**

It didn't take them long to get back to the house. They went in through the front, giving each other longing, knowing looks, barely containing their anticipation, and trying to be quiet, not wanting to alert Amy to their arrival in case she tried to delay them.

They got up the stairs quicker than Ste believed possible, and shut themselves in Brendan's room. Vinnie was still on Ste's mind. He imagined a skinny lad, much like himself, caught in the web that was this lust for Brendan he couldn't put aside.

Like now. Even while he was thinking about how Brendan might have damaged someone, he was still powerless to stop his own heart racing, his own skin forming goose bumps in anticipation, his own attraction manifesting itself throughout his entire being. Brendan was taking his time, just looking Ste up and down, eyes dark, brooding, enticing and threatening all at once. They made Ste shiver, and there was fear there, however drowned out it was by his lust.

The feeling was so delicious, he barely dared move for fear it would cease. His stomach curled and twisted, and he leant back on the door, drinking in the sight of Brendan with unbridled desperation. He needed the older man to claim him, to never let him go again. And he knew it was pathetic and stupid, and if it was only his heart that would be broken by all of this then he would be lucky, but that was not going to stop him right now.

Brendan gave him a predatory smirk, full of promise, but when he lifted his hand, it only lightly skimmed Ste's waist.

"Look at you," he breathed, his voice full of wonder. Like Ste was something worth looking at. Knowing himself to be nothing special, the sentiment almost felt like a lie to Ste. He batted Brendan's hand away, but the older man somehow sat it coming, and grabbed Ste's wrist, pushing it back into the door at his side.

"Why did that upset you?" Brendan asked, head on one side. Ste chose to ignore how annoyed he sounded.

"It didn't," snapped Ste, "can we get on with it please?"

"Don't lie to me, Steven," said Brendan, and though clearly still annoyed, doing an admirable job of holding it in, "I can tell when you're upset, you get all, pouty."

Ste rolled his eyes, and tried to kiss him. No annoyance or suspicion was going to stop him getting what he wanted from Brendan right now.

Brendan dodged the kiss, kept Ste's wrist against the door and pushed the other back too, "Not that there's anything wrong with pouty, it kind of suits you, actually, but you will tell me what pissed you off, or I can hold you back for hours."

Ste snorted, "You wouldn't!" pulling against the restraining hands in an attempt to get some more exciting contact from the older man.

"Wanna bet?" jeered Brendan, not giving any, and not letting Ste get anywhere near his target. "I've got self-restraint, Steven, have you?"

This was frustrating, and Ste caved quickly, "Alright, you upset me. I just don't like being lied to."

"When did I lie?" asked Brendan, with curiosity.

"Pretending I'm … you know," said Ste, certain he was blushing, "when you said 'look at you'. It's not true, so don't say it."

Brendan studied his face. "You really believe that, don't ye?"

Ste didn't say anything. It wasn't a belief if it was true.

Brendan sniffed, and there was silence for a moment. Then suddenly he let go of Ste's arms, and grabbed his shirt, pulling it up over his head. Ste didn't resist, hoping they were just going to get on with it, except Brendan didn't continue in the right way. He threw the shirt aside, grabbed Ste's arms and pulled him across the room, infuriatingly not in the direction of the bed.

On one wall hung a huge mirror. Brendan forced Ste to stand in front of it, then trapped the younger man against his body, holding Ste's back to his front, both of them looking into the mirror. Ste flinched and tried to look away.

Brendan held him close, one arm around his body, trapping Ste's arms to his sides, the other reached up to his chin and pushed it gently to look forward, straight at the mirror.

"Look at you," he repeated.

Ste gave up and looked in the mirror. He saw himself, skinny and weak, his skin marred, as usual, by bruises in various stages of healing. Brendan, in contrast, still fully clothed, stood behind him like a beautiful solid stone statue, strong, muscular and in control as men should be. That was much more fun to look at.

"I'd rather look at you," Ste whispered, pushing back against Brendan's body in a desperate attempt to distract him back to the much more fun prospect of sex that should already be happening.

Brendan snorted, "Well, I am a work of art," he said, "but, seriously, after everything that's happened recently, ye still don't see how beautiful you are?"

Ste looked at himself again. He was far from beautiful.

"Even when you're bruised, your skin, it's… iridescent," breathed Brendan, caressing said skin on Ste's chest as he did, probably trying to send Ste mad, "And that face, so perfect," and the hand followed Brendan's words, caressing Ste's check, "and lips that sinful would make a priest blush," Brendan ran a finger across Ste's bottom lip, resisting Ste's attempt to pull the digit into his mouth, "Long limbs that were made for clinging on," Brendan's hand ran all the way down Ste's side to find his next target, "not to mention a completely irresistible arse."

Ste was breathless, his entire body quivering from Brendan's gaze in the mirror, and the light caresses, not sure if it was Brendan's unashamed adoration of his body, or the strength with which the Irishman held him still that enticed him more.

"Danny knew it, even if he didn't feel it," Brendan growled, "and that idiot Noah, though he couldn't even see you only noticed him to make me jealous. And that Sir Alexander? Enough money to buy any rent boy in the city, but who did he want? And there'll be others, I know, but they're not going near ye, not ever, and do you know why, Steven?"

"No…" said Ste, not sure what he was saying.

"Because you are mine," breathed Brendan, his breath caressing Ste's ear, and his hand tracing down and down, to the front of Ste's trousers, slipping inside. Ste's eyes shot to his in the mirror, the contact intense.

"I think we make a good match," he said. The possessiveness was amazing, completely unfamiliar to Ste, and he suspected the closest he would get to a love declaration any time soon, but he needed Brendan to know it was mutual. He wasn't an object. Brendan might want to lock him away from the eyes of the outside world, but Ste wanted to do the same. He recognised that look burning in Brendan's eyes, because he wore it too. He could see it in the mirror.

Brendan smirked, and brought his mouth down on Ste's neck in a move that made Ste keen with need. Ste wanted desperately to turn and bring their bodies together, to tear off Brendan's clothes so he could feel that beautiful warm flesh against him. But that bastard arm held him still, as Brendan worked his neck with lips and tongue and the gorgeous hint of teeth, and a hand found its way to graze Ste's penis.

"Oh, God," Ste breathed, "please!"

Brendan chucked, "Please what?" he whispered, and Ste felt every syllable in his neck.

"Please, let me touch you," Ste begged, wantonly. His upper arms were still held at his sides, but he was already grasping behind him as far as he could reach.

"I'd rather touch you," Brendan teased, not letting up the torture, and freeing Ste from his trousers. The useless clothes fell to the floor, puddling around his feet, forgotten. His underwear was the only barrier now, and Brendan was pushing it down and out of his way.

Ste squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensations.

"Look at us," growled Brendan, and Ste knew an order when he heard it, and his eyes flew open in a rush to obey. Brendan was tormenting the spot where Ste's shoulder met his neck, his eyes glued on Ste's face, and Ste met the gaze. Those sad blue eyes were flashing with passion, and Ste knew he could lose himself within them.

He writhed against Brendan's body, he could feel Brendan's own pleasure pushing against his back, but the older man didn't seem to care about it. All he seemed to want was to drive Ste insane with need. The hand at Ste's penis stopped teasing, and instead took the shaft in a firm grasp. Both men groaned at the sensation.

Then Brendan began to stroke it.

"Oh my God!" gasped Ste, losing control of his hips. Brendan's other hand released Ste's arms in favour of holding Ste close, exploring his chest with a firm, experienced, finding a nipple and caressing it until it became peaked with interest and then tweaking it. Ste's own hands had grasped at Brendan, one gripping the man's hair, one reaching behind and grasping his hip, desperately trying to keep the man going, keep him close, even when it got too much and Ste had to gasp, "Stop, I'm gonna…"

"Then come," breathed Brendan, "keep looking at me. Know it's me that makes you feel this way."

And even as Ste's brain turned itself into a gooey mess while he came over Brendan's hands, his own chest, the floor, the mirror, Ste knew it was daft. Of course it was Brendan that made him feel this way. No one else could ever make it feel this good.

He collapsed into Brendan's embrace, still gripping the older man's hair and hip, while his legs seemed unable to hold him. The older man held him, breathing heavily despite the lack of attention on him, while Ste tried to form a coherent thought. His grip in Brendan's hair was harsh enough to hurt, but Ste took an age to realise, and when he did, it didn't seem to matter, because Brendan was still so close, and unattended.

He managed to twist in Brendan's arms, kicking his trousers off in the process, and bringing their fronts together, hungrily meeting his lips. He wrapped his arms around Brendan's neck, and almost attacked him with need. The pair stumbled back until Brendan's legs hit the bed and he dropped down onto it. Ste pulled away breathlessly.

"Your turn," he gasped, and at Brendan's smile, dropped to his knees. He made easy work of Brendan's trousers, opening them and pulling them down and out of the way with Brendan's help. Brendan was more than ready for him, staring down at him hungrily, and already rock hard. Ste grinned before taking it lightly in one hand, but Ste didn't get long to play. Brendan might enjoy teasing and taking control, but he wouldn't let it happen the other way, and in seconds he'd pulled Ste onto the bed beside him, and climbed atop. "Do you not want a turn, then?" Ste said with a grin.

"It's always my turn," Brendan growled, as he spread Ste's legs and worked a hand between them. The new position, the touch and Brendan's weight above him had somehow restored Ste's arousal, and it seemed to take forever and no time at all for Brendan to prepare him, enter him, and send both over the edge, trying to muffle each others' cries by joining their mouths desperately. Afterwards they kept hold of each other, Brendan's strong arms keeping Ste safely tucked into his side as they recovered, and Ste stared at Brendan's face.

It was peaceful for once, eyes closed, not frowning or scornful or angry, and Ste dared hope it was him that made the difference, their time together, the magic they just made in this room, and he smiled.

He was inspecting Brendan's muscles, the perfect mounds on his arms and chest that make Ste giddy, when he remembers his own concerns. It was the idle thought that Brendan could keep them both here forever if he wanted that sparked it. He remembered Brendan's actions when Declan had found out, and the time in the club, after he'd rescued him from Danny. And that led him back to Vinnie. Maybe Brendan had pushed Vinnie like that, only Vinnie had said no, had run, and Brendan hadn't listened?

Surely Brendan, who'd just spent a long time trying to show Ste he wasn't pond scum, wasn't capable of that. He had stopped when Ste had asked him. He shoved his fears aside. They were irrelevant. He didn't really know anything about Vinnie. And Brendan's stock way of getting rid of people in his way did seem to be getting them arrested. He'd probably done the same to Vinnie. That was probably all Doug was referring to.

He wrapped a leg over Brendan's, and Brendan reciprocated, tangling the two men further together. He sighed, contentedly. "You can't be ready to go again?" he whispered.

Ste smiled. The move hadn't meant to be sexual, he'd just needed them closer, "I'm happy like this," he breathed, truthfully, and kissed Brendan's firm shoulder.

"Yeah," Brendan sighed, "yeah, five more minutes."

"Yeah," Ste agreed, and closed his own eyes. He wouldn't care if five minutes turned into five days.

"Then we're going to the club," said Brendan, "you're a shit servant, so you're working there again."

Ste could handle that.

**Shocking lack of cliffhanger. Very unlike me. There is more to come. Like who was the bastard who tried to rape Ste? Has Brendan replaced Warren at the club yet? Is Cheryl talking to anyone? Will Ste voice his fears? And can they find any sort of happiness in the society in which they live? I don't feel I'm very far into this story yet, so I hope you guys keep caring. **

**Reviews make me write more!**

**x**


	32. Chapter 32

**Thanks tp everyone who keeps reading and reviewing. Will do my best about sex scenes. And I do love dominant Brendan, so glad you guys do too, but I could never stand a truly submissive Ste. It's just not who he is. What they have is much more fun.**

**Enjoy!**

They were very late for the club of course. Neither wanted to move from their deliriously intoxicating position, but Brendan argued that his sister should not be expected to cope on her own. Ste let Amy know they weren't leaving or homeless or unemployed, and that he was going to work at the club.

"Oh," she said simply, without an ounce of surprised.

"Er, are you alright with that?" he asked, worriedly.

She smiled at him, "Course, it's fine," she said, "I'll leave some tea for you both for when you get in," but the smile was sad again, and guilt twisted in Ste's belly even as he left with Brendan.

He still found himself chattering all the way. Mostly it was about nonsense, Leah, Lucas and their games, how strict the Sister at the hospital was, and how nice the nurse had been, how people in the street would give him funny looks and avoid him. Brendan said very little, but he didn't stop Ste, or even seem annoyed, though he did steer him past some horse poo on the road a couple of times. It felt kind of good, to have this strong man beside him. He felt safe in a way he never really remembered feeling before. He'd never not been expecting a beating for the smallest of misdemeanours. But at that moment in time, he knew none was coming. The threats of Terry and Danny seemed a long way off, the man on the stairs so removed from his reality right now he could have dreamed it, and there was a contentedness to Brendan that showed, if not how happy, at least how relaxed he was. Maybe there would come a time when he could have his boys and Ste close. Maybe Declan would forgive them for their weaknesses. Maybe.

They went in through the back. The blond girl he'd seen before was stood by the sink, moaning to Jacqui, who was stood distractedly inspecting her own fingernails beside her, about the effect of the water on her hands. Ste was bemused how anyone could worry about anything so trivial. Brendan was annoyed.

"My God, have I damaged the great Theresa's hands by paying her to work for me? How will I ever forgive myself? Oh, I just did. Get on with it!"

Jacqui rolled her eyes and got on with it, grumbling a sarcastic "Alright, master. What did your last slave die of?"

Theresa on the other hand leapt over to Brendan and stood in his way.

"Er, Brendan," she said, looking up at him through painted lashes, making Ste's lip curl, "I was hoping I might have Friday off, you know, since I've been doing such a good job." She blinked at him, and Ste was sure she was subtly trying to push her breasts together with her upper arms.

Brendan looked at her coldly. "Let me think about that one Theresa, when you say you've been doing such a good job, was that when you sit about chatting when you should be working, or when you're late in and try to sneak off early."

Theresa fluttered her eyelashes, somehow not catching Brendan's dangerous tone, "I got that Mr Jacques to book a party, didn't I?" she said in a little girl voice, "That will make you loads of money."

"So, you think, that because you flutter your eyelashes and twirl your hair and let the customers think you're willing to shag them, I'm somehow lucky to have you here? Occasionally? When you feel like it?"

Theresa stopped fluttering her eyelashes and twirling her hair. "I ain't getting time off, am I?"

"Smartest thing I've heard you say Theresa," said Brendan, and disappeared up the stairs.

Theresa turned back to Jacqui with a pout, "That man is weird!"

"Why," smirked Jacqui, "because he doesn't fall for the flirting?"

"Well... yeah!" said Theresa.

"Well maybe you're not his type," Jacqui suggested, and the glance she gave Ste was so quick, he hoped he'd imagined it.

"Well, I'd better get on, too," he said, to avoid having to join in. He put his coat on a peg and grabbed a crate of bottles of the most common beer, deciding it was a safe bet the lower bar needed restocking, and ran off up the stairs with it.

He thought he heard Theresa add, "And who's he, anyway?"

He didn't wait for Jacqui's answer; he couldn't bear hearing what they thought of him here. Too close to the boss, or a thieving, conniving little bastard. None of it was good. It was best to keep his head down, get on with it and not get any unwanted attention.

The bar was pretty much as he remembered it, as he should have expected since he'd left less than a week ago. The same dull glow of the gas lamps, even during the day, the same smell of alcohol and smoke, the same strange sense of calm before the customers showed up.

He was right; the bar did need stocking, so he got on with it, lining up the bottles on the shelf ready for whoever would turn up that night. He was halfway through when Jacqui interrupted him.

"So, er, Ste," she started, "you're working here again are ye?"

"Looks like it, don't it?" said Ste, trying to keep his tone light, like there was nothing questionable about the changes.

"So where've you been then?" Jacqui pressed, "Haven't seen you for days, not here, not at home."

"We moved, that's all," he said, "found somewhere new."

"Where?" she asked, not put off, and he supposed Jacqui wasn't the type to be put off before she knew what she wanted to know. Ste tried to keep evading the question anyway.

"Nowhere special," he said.

Jacqui looked at him shrewdly, but asked "And how's your Lucas?"

Ste breathed out. Much easier to answer. "He's doing great. They sent him home, and he's arguing with his sister already."

Jacqui smiled, "Little scamp, is he?"

"Nah, he's great," said Ste, not offended, "brave little soldier."

"Yeah," said Jacqui, still smiling, "all that time in hospital."

"Yeah," agreed Ste, feeling dead proud of his son's bravery, "proper little trooper."

"And, Brendan paid for it all?"

Ste could have cursed her. Jacqui, of all people, already knew that, she was just trying to catch him out.

"Yeah, just a loan," he said, casual as he could, "I'll pay him back every penny, eventually."

"Hmm," teased Jacqui, "I bet you will."

After skirting around the idea of selling himself so much after the last few days, that comment really annoyed him. "Yes, I will, and with money out of me wages before you make up any crap." The thought made him wonder if Brendan was ever going to give him money actual money. He guessed it didn't matter while his family were fed and sheltered and he still owed so much for Lucas.

"If you say so," sneered Jacqui.

"Yeah, I do," said Ste, angrily.

But she just smirked some more. Ste shoved the bottle he was holding carelessly onto the shelf. It knocked the one next it, and the one next to that, which slipped off the shelf. Ste's arm dashed out and caught it. He sighed in relief. And stood in time to see Cheryl swoop into the room.

"What are you doing back?" she asked in surprise.

"Er, Brendan asked me," said Ste, uncertainly.

"Oh," she said, "erm..." she looked embarrassed. Ste hoped she hadn't heard more than Brendan would want her to know, so waited with bated breath for what she was going to say.

"I'm sorry for shouting," she said, "You should have said your little boy was sick. I'd never have... I'm, of course I'd have leant you money for that."

"Oh," said Ste, thinking about Cheryl's actions that had caused all this. It was almost like they'd happened to a different person, as so much had changed since. And her words showed him Brendan hadn't mentioned his attempted thievery to anyone. "It's OK, I mean, Brendan leant it me. And Lucas's doing great now."

"That's good," she said. "So, we're OK, then?"

"Course," said Ste, knowing that it mattered very little how much he liked Cheryl. She could turn Brendan against him in the flick on an eye if she wanted, and then he would be out. He was going to be as nice as he was capable of.

"Good!" she said, growing in enthusiasm, "so, are we ready to get my club open yet?"

"We've just got to change the barrel," said Jacqui, "if that new doorman's here."

"Too right he is," said Cheryl, giggling, slightly.

"Ooo, have you got a bit of a crush?" teased Theresa, appearing at the stairs.

"Er, never you mind, Madam," sneered Cheryl. "And you better get to that upper bar, Brendan's already fed up with your slacking." Theresa flounced up the stairs, stroppily, and Cheryl shook her head at Jacqui, "If she wasn't your cousin, she'd be out of here you know."

Ste pretended to get on with the bottles, as Jacqui protested "Oh, Cheryl, don't be a Brendan, give her a break."

"It's not me you should be worrying about," said Cheryl.

Jacqui sighed, "I'll have a word," she said, resignedly.

"Thank you," said Cheryl, taking off back out the bar, presumably to the door man or something. Ste volunteered to change the barrel, and made his way back down the stairs, and by the time he got back to the bar, it was starting to fill. He started serving alongside Jacqui and Rhys, and the night got busier and busier, and it felt good to be busy when he knew what he was doing. Hordes of people seemed to need serving as it grew darker, and the club filled, and he only caught frustrating glimpses of Brendan, going up the stairs, making his way through the crowd, which parted for him like the Red Sea for Moses, greeting strange men with firm handshakes and a distinct lack of smiles. Ste watched him avidly when he could see him, studying him for either returned looks of want, or signs of violence.

"Stop day dreaming!" said Jacqui more than once, giving him a nudge, and Ste blushed to be caught out. He quickly got back to serving, and lost track of Brendan's movements. It was just as well; sleeping together or not Brendan would not be happy if he caught him slacking.

He served a great crowd of men, and then ushered them away from the bar, letting the people behind get to him. One of them was Noah.

Ste didn't even notice at first, just looked blankly at the faces in front of him, serving one at a time, with no idea of the order they'd arrived. It took Noah's bright grin and loud "Hello stranger!" for him to even realise he knew the man.

Ste couldn't get the name attached at first "Oh, hi," he said, uncertainly.

"Oh thank goodness," said the man, leaning casually on the bar, "I thought you'd forgotten me."

"Er, course not," said Ste, still racking his brains for the name, "Er, does Brendan know you're here?" he asked, trying to sound casual and failing, but at least remembering Noah's name, "Noah?"

"No," said Noah, with a smile, "why, it wouldn't matter to him, would it?"

"Course not," said Ste, vaguely, "so, what can I get ya?"

"A beer and a second chance, please?"

"Er, I can get you a beer," said Ste, and did just that, putting it on the bar casually, "That's thruppence, please."

"And the second chance?" asked Noah, handing over the money with what he probably thought was a winning smile.

"I don't know what ya mean," said Ste, "I need to serve the next…"

"Look, I know I probably offended you the other day."

Ste had to think hard about how Noah might have offended him. Between Lucas's illness, Brendan blowing his mind and Danny's awful games, Noah's attempts to seduce him felt like they had happened to a different person. Ste couldn't even remember whether he'd turned Noah down before or after Brendan had thrown him against the door and fucked the sense out of him. Not much else had seemed relevant that day.

"But," Noah continued, "I know that I was being stupid. It was an overreaction. I mean, so what you have kids? You're handsome enough that no one in their right mind should care."

Now Ste remembered, Noah had made a comment about his kids, and Ste hadn't even needed to bother to tell him to get lost. He was just about to take a great amount of pleasure in doing just that when a hand on his shoulder gave him cause to panic.

"Office, now," growled Brendan.

**Let me know what you think by leaving a review! x**


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: Thanks again for the reviews. **

**To the guest reviewer who protested the time frame, I'm not being very careful about making it clear, I know, but all those events you mentioned followed each other very quickly. There have only been a few nights spent at Brendan's house because Declan came home on the second day Ste was there. **

**Warning, the plot I intended for this chapter has basically gone missing. If you find it, please return it to my head. Hopefully it will turn up sometime this week. I had to replace it with something else. Hope you enjoy it anyway!**

"I haven't done anything," Ste protested.

Brendan shoved Noah's drink off the bar, making the man jump back out of the way. A small round of applause greeted the sound of glass smashing against the wooden floor.

"Office. Now," Brendan repeated. "Jacqui, clear up the mess, and you," he glared at Noah, "can get out of my club before I throw ye out."

"What?" gasped Noah.

Jacqui snarled, "Why do I have to clear it up? I didn't do owt!"

Brendan switched his glare to her, "Well, you could swap over if you want, he could clear it up and you could take the bollocking, that better?"

"No," said Jacqui, sulkily.

"Well then," said Brendan. His head snapped back to Ste, "Steven, now."

Ste shot an apologetic look to Jacqui, and she gave him a bit of sympathy. She could suspect whatever she wanted, but she knew when someone was in trouble. As he turned and left for the office he heard Noah's protest, "Now hang on…"

Ste stepped carefully into Brendan's office, and waited for Brendan. It was a minute or two before boss slammed the door behind them, and Ste suspected he had actually physically thrown Noah out. He suspected Brendan could have done that alone without raising a sweat.

"I shall be taking that out of your wages," Brendan growled.

Ste wrinkled his nose, "But it was…"

Brendan put a finger on Ste's lips and whispered "One… two… three…"

"Why are ya…?" Ste started but Brendan changed his finger to a whole hand over Ste's mouth.

"Four… five..." he continued, and then let Ste go in time to pull the door open. Jacqui fell through it.

"I was just, er, looking for a cloth," she said, quickly.

"Well, if it has taken you this long to remember where the cleaning stuff is, I really should think about letting you go," growled Brendan, voice warning.

Embarrassed, Jacqui nodded before disappearing down the stairs. Brendan shut the door again, before turning his powerful dark gaze on Ste, who swallowed.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong!" Ste said again.

Brendan advanced. Ste had seen Brendan do similar things lots of times before, and he backed up until his legs hit the desk, still uncertain what to expect.

His face unreadable, as he seemed to prefer, Brendan closed the gap between them until it was nothing. Then he smirked. "You don't know if you should expect a beating or not, do you?"

Ste shivered. "Well, should I?" he whispered.

Brendan smirked wider, "What do you think?"

He initiated the kiss, but Ste didn't complain. He leant forward into Brendan's body, deepening it, and bringing his arms around Brendan's body. He almost laughed, partly from relief, partly from the realisation that there were going to be so many chances to have sex from now on.

"It seems you need reminding," Brendan whispered against his lips, "of whom you belong to."

Ste suspected the man was playing, that he was pretending to be jealous so they could shag in the office, but he needed to protest, just in case, "I was about to tell him where to go."

Ignoring the words, Brendan caught his arms and pushed them down to his sides. "Put your hands on the desk," he breathed raggedly.

"Why?" said Ste.

Again ignoring Ste's words, Brendan added, "And keep them there."

"Why though?" said Ste again.

"Because I've told you to," Brendan replied, pushing Ste's hands down.

"What are you gonna do?" asked Ste, leaving his hands rested behind him on the strong wood, for now, as his breath sped up.

Brendan smirked, "Whatever I want. I told ye, it's always my turn."

He grazed a hand down Ste's front over the shirt. Ste shivered at the contact, waiting to see where this was going, but as Brendan reached his buttons he had to say something.

"Er… I'm not very good at just… doing as I'm told."

Brendan remained concentrated on Ste's body, but he did reply "That does not surprise me." He got Ste's buttons open with minimal effort, and then stroked the skin at Ste's waist. Ste felt like his whole body was suddenly alive with energy. It was pulsating through him, making him quiver. Brendan smirked again. His other hand mirrored his first, caressing Ste's skin, and rising to his chest. Then he lowered his face to Ste's neck, putting his lips against the skin there, gently tasting him. Ste groaned, which Brendan took as encouragement. He massaged and nipped with lips and tongue. One hand grazed Ste's sensitive nipple, making him gasp, and Brendan used just the right amount of teeth on the juncture between neck and shoulder to send Ste's brain foggy.

He forgot about the order, and a hand grasped at Brendan's hair, curling the strands around his fingers. Brendan laughed against his neck.

"That lasted, what, three seconds?"

Ste grinned, "I told ya, I'm not good at orders," he said, and used his hand in Brendan's hair to pull his head up enough so he could kiss him. Ste heard Brendan's grumbled growl, but it didn't bother him. The man was a long way from angry, and Ste saw no reason to be patient.

Brendan deepened the kiss, putting his soul into it, grabbing Ste around the waist, and pawing at his hips, bringing their bodies together. Both men groaned when they felt each other so close, and Ste threw both arms around Brendan's neck, trying to increase the closeness. But Brendan had a better idea. His hands pushed down to Ste's hips and then his thighs, which they grabbed firmly, lifting Ste up, spreading his legs and putting his arse on the desk. He slipped into the gap between Ste's legs, pushing their groins together, creating friction where they both really wanted it, and even through their clothes it felt right.

"Brendan!" gasped Ste, "there's a club full of people outside." But even as he said it, he hoped his lover wouldn't care. And Brendan didn't.

"Then you'll have to be quiet, won't ye?" he breathed, and tugged Ste's shirt off of his shoulders, dropping it casually on the floor. Ste's trousers went the same way, though Ste was still battling to get Brendan's shirt off. The older man always seemed much keener to get to Ste's flesh than let his own out, which Ste thought was very unfair, but he relented to Ste's silent pleas, and Ste got to enjoy the sight of Brendan's stunning naked chest. He ran a hand over the strong muscles. Brendan seemed to enjoy his entranced facial expression, but didn't let the adoration last long, and soon pushed Ste down until his back was laying on the desk, and snogged him thoroughly. This time he didn't tell Ste to put his hands on the desk. Instead he took Ste's wrists in one of his hands and held them above Ste's head. Ste squirmed, not trying to get lose, but to create more friction between them, but testing Brendan's strength was amazing. The older man had no trouble keeping Ste still, which sent a thrill down Ste's spine.

When Brendan's free hand crept between his legs, Ste bit his lip to stop himself making the keening noises that were building up in his throat and trying to escape. When the hand reached his hole, he arched off the table, but Brendan still held him down, smirking. Ste pushed his own legs wider, desperate for more contact, and Brendan obliged by preparing Ste. Ste squirmed some more as his arousal climbed ever higher, and when Brendan pulled his hand away, Ste mewled, and grabbed Brendan's hips with his legs.

Brendan grinned with satisfaction. "You need this so badly, don't ye?" he teased, hand stroking Ste's thigh.

"Yes!" gasped Ste, "fuck me! Please!"

He could see Brendan's cock was more than ready. Brendan had loosed it from its cotton prison, but he was infuriatingly resisting Ste's attempts to get him inside him. "That prat out there," Brendan growled, "he can't do this to ye, can he?"

Ste wasn't sure if Brendan was saying that for Ste's sake or his own. "No, Brendan," he said anyway, "It's just you. I need you! Please!" He dug his heels into Brendan's hips, trying to drag him closer, but Brendan didn't budge. His free hand went to his own cock which he stroked gently. Ste groaned with need, reduced to a mess of nonsensical ramblings. "Please, fuck me, Brendan, please, fuck me, fu…."

Brendan obliged with sudden speed, entering him in one sharp move. Ste cried out with shock but mostly lust and pleasure. The both took a moment to recover from the incredible feeling that this nearness brought them, but they recovered quickly. Ste wriggled, trying to get the movement he wanted, trying to free his wrists so he could cling to Brendan like he wanted to. "Brendan…" he breathed, and only just managed to stop himself repeating the L word. Brendan probably wouldn't have minded at that moment, delirious with pleasure as they both were, but Ste wasn't going to risk it. "You're amazing!" he gasped instead.

Brendan rewarded him with the movement he needed, and a deep kiss that took away what breath he had left. He felt his legs tighten around Brendan's hips, and his tongue wrestling Brendan's, and hoped it would never end. Then Brendan finally let go of his wrists. Ste wasted no time in grabbing any part of Brendan he could reach, clinging on as if his life depended on it. Brendan didn't seem to care anymore, as he pulled Ste's legs from around his waist and threw them over his own shoulders. The change in position stopped the kiss, but allowed him to deepen his movements, hitting that spot Ste needed him to again and again and again, and making him cry Brendan's name.

He didn't need to touch his own cock; the sight and feel and smell of Brendan was sending him over the edge, and it was too soon, but he knew it would always be too soon with Brendan. He would never want their moments alone to end. Brendan thrust into him a few more times, but didn't last much longer, and they came together, gasping and shaking. Brendan let Ste's legs fall away, and brought their bodies back together. As they recovered, he stroked Ste's hair from his face, and Ste, feeling boneless as he lay on the table, caressed Brendan's strong shoulders, the heat radiating from them as desirable as a roaring fire on a snowy night.

"You don't need to find excuses to fuck me, you know," Ste whispered.

Brendan looked at him with those sad eyes, "Don't I?"

Ste shook his head, his hand moving to Brendan's enticing upper arm, which he held like it was made of glass. "And I don't want anyone else," he said, "obviously," he added, as his hand made a poor show of circling Brendan's beautiful muscles.

"Good," breathed Brendan, strangely, as though he was relieved but confused he felt that way.

"And you?" asked Ste, "should I be jealous of every handsome man who talks to you?"

Brendan was quiet for a while, but when Ste found eye contact again, it seemed he was thinking. "No," Brendan said, quietly "no, you don't."

Ste smiled at him, "Good," he said. And Brendan stared back. "What?" asked Ste, after just a moment too long of silent staring.

Brendan let out a breathy laugh, "It's almost unfair that I had to bar that bloke," he said, "I mean look at ye, it's not his fault you're irresistible."

Ste blushed and laughed at the same time, and Brendan leant closer to kiss him deeply.

The door handle turned. Both men jumped and gasped. It took them a few moments to realise they safe. The door was locked. Whoever it was couldn't get in.

"Jacqui!" they heard Cheryl shout, "have you seen Brendan? I need to get into the office."

Both men held their breath.

"I thought he was in there," they heard Jacqui reply, "he went to give that Ste a bollocking for breaking a bottle."

"Oh, the wee poor lad," said Cheryl, "I hope he isn't too hard on him."

Ste snorted a laugh. Brendan put a hand over his mouth, though his own face was one of amusement.

"I think he'll survive, Chez," said Jacqui, "it's not like we haven't all had the same."

Ste looked at Brendan questioningly. "No!" the older man whispered indignantly.

"Oh, well, if you see him, tell him I need the spare key, will ya?" said Cheryl, and the men let out shaky breaths as they heard her feet walking away.

"Course," said Jacqui, and Ste realised she suspected where they were.

He pulled Brendan's hand away from his mouth and whispered, "She's gonna wait to see if we come out together."

Brendan swore.

**Reviews welcomed warmly! x**


	34. Chapter 34

**AN: Am grieving. There is a complete lack of sex while such things happen. **

**The majority of ideas for this story came to me right at the beginning, with the exception of a handle of manoeuvring in very recent chapters. No one is necessarily as they are on the show, so try not to make assumptions based on what you have seen recently. I would feel like I was letting you down if I didn't find any ways to surprise you in this story, particularly while we are all broken hearted.**

**Emmett Scanlan is my God. Kieron Richardson is adorable. They should both be forced to never stop making Stendan related drama on my TV screen at 6.30 every night, but alas, I do not make the rules. So I shall just write this and pretend it's them doing it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Brendan swore quietly. "All right," he said, "all right."

He got up from the table, and Ste instantly missed the contact, but knew he had to follow suit. His clothes were strewn about the room, and he needed to get them on again. Brendan was faster, only needing to do up his trousers and find his shirt, while Ste was completely naked. He promised himself he was going to change that next time; he had as much right to enjoy Brendan's body as Brendan did to enjoy his. But now was not the time to talk about it.

"What are we gonna do?" he asked in a whisper.

"Stay here," said Brendan, and as soon as Ste was dressed he nudged him behind the door. Then he unlocked the door and swooped from the room. "Jacqui!" he barked.

"What?" said Jacqui, quickly, surprised, and also feigning innocence.

"What are you doing standing there? I pay you to work, not stand about looking gormless."

"Cheryl…" Jacqui started.

"Wants the key to the office. I have ears, now get back to work."

"All right," said Jacqui, now pretending to be offended, and her feet too could be heard disappearing down the corridor. Brendan watched her go, then beckoned Ste out of the office.

"Better get down to the cellar and do some washing up," he told Ste, "then you can pretend you've been down there for ages, she'll think I just sent you straight down."

"She suspects…" Ste started.

"But suspecting ain't the same as knowing," Brendan countered, "get on with it."

Ste felt slightly annoyed with the swift dismissal, and was about to strop downstairs, but Brendan must have picked up on it. He caught him with a hand on his shoulder, nudged him back, kissed him quickly and then smacked him on the arse. Which was better, and managed to send Ste downstairs with a smile on his face.

The night was well underway by now, and the other bar staff had been depositing glasses for a while. Ste groaned at the size of the pile as he made his way towards it, and decided he was going to think his own way out of any future near-misses, because this was just annoying.

"Hallo?" said a voice by the door, making Ste jump a mile. A man he'd never seen before was standing by the door.

"Er, who are you?" Ste demanded, ready to run back up the stairs at a moment's notice, though also aware that the new arrival would get there first. The stranger seemed in no hurry to move though. He was leaning casually against the open door, cigarette in his mouth, arms crossed loosely over his chest, and looking Ste up and down appraisingly.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, and Ste realised his accent was similar to Danny's. But the stranger smiled kindly, "I'm the doorman," said the stranger, "Simon Walker."

Ste tutted, "I think it's supposed to be the other door."

Simon Walker grinned, "I'm on a break."

Ste decided to get on with his work, "I don't think Brendan takes too kindly to breaks," he said, "Who's on the door, then, if you're here?"

"Er, I think his name's Rhys?" said Simon, "I was only gonna be a minute. Do you want one by the way?" He offered Ste a cigarette.

"No thanks," said Ste.

Simon put the pack away, and took a suck on the one in his mouth, "So who are you then?" he asked, "I assume you're not a punter doing the washing up for fun."

Before he could answer, Jacqui appeared at the top of the stairs, "Ste?" she called. "Oh, there you are, I was wondering if Brendan had done away with you. How long you been there for?"

"Ages," said Ste, and he saw Simon clocking the lie, but he thankfully didn't comment.

"Well I need you up here, Rhys is on the door and it's just me behind the bar," said Jacqui, "Unless his grace wants to bless us with his presence?" she said, looking at Simon with daggers. He looked back at her pleasantly and had another drag on his cigarette.

"Er, Brendan told me to do this," Ste mumbled, uncertainly, "so… I don't…"

"Ugh, fine!" said Jacqui, "I'll just do it all by myself, shall I?" and she stropped back up the stairs. Simon smiled after her amused.

"Why did you lie to her?" he asked, when Jacqui was out of earshot.

"Er, I didn't…" Ste tried.

"Been here ages? You just got down the stairs."

Ste thought quick, "I was just having a break."

Simon raised an eyebrow, "I thought Brendan didn't approve of breaks."

"Yeah, well," said Ste, "he's not gonna find out about mine."

Simon smiled at him, and took another puff on his cigarette. "I like you," he said, "I'll have to come and have a chat more often."

"Er, alright," said Ste, in lieu of something worthwhile to respond with.

"Good," said Simon, "I better get back to the door then, before Jacqui has a stroke, I'll see you around then, Ste."

He put the cigarette out with the sole of his shoe, and with one last smile at Ste trotted up the stairs. Ste carried on washing, wondering what he should think of the new doorman. He seemed friendly enough. Maybe Ste could have a nice normal friend for once.

He got halfway through the pile before taking them up and checking on Jacqui. It was busy, so he took up position behind the bar again, and didn't retreat to the washing up that night. As the evening grew late, the crowds started to disperse; men slinging arms around the colourful women, or falling over themselves drunkenly. Then it got to closing time.

It was the worst part of the day, trying to get the drunks to go home. Today seemed particularly tough. Some sat in miserable silence and refused to acknowledge them, some tried to argue why they should stay, and some just kept laughing, paying no attention.

Jacqui did a good job of talking them into going, managing a balance between amiable and forceful. Ste tried to copy her style. It didn't go quite so well.

One of the miserable ones had ignored Rhys. Jacqui was busy with a group of lads who were all interested in her, and trying to flirt, so Ste stepped up.

"Er, mate, it's closing time," he said, trying to sound confident.

The man looked at him. Then looked down at his table. Then put his half empty bottle to his lips and sipped a tiny amount of beer. Ste tried again.

"Can you drink up please mate, we need to get closed."

The man put the bottle down on the table and turned to glare at Ste. "I'll go when I'm ready, not when some little gobshite tells me."

"Ain't you got an home to go to?" said Ste. He'd heard Jacqui say the same.

"What's it to ye?" snarled the man, which Ste worried meant no.

"Look, we gotta close up, you have to get out," he said anyway.

"I told ya, I'll go when I'm ready. Fuck off."

"'Ere don't swear at me!" Ste cried.

"I can swear as much as I like," said the man, "and if you don't get out of my face, I'm gonna deck ya!"

Ste kept trying, "Sorry mate, but you need to go!"

"Fuck off," said the man.

Ste got annoyed. He took the bottle, ready to pour it away, "It's time to go," he said.

The man jumped to his feet, "Give us that back!"

"No, you've had enough," said Ste.

"You little shit!" shouted the man, and threw a punch at Ste's face.

A hand shot out just in time to catch the fist before it hit its target. Ste dodged back and nearly fell over anyway, but just managed to hold himself upright. He had made an assumption about who had intervened and was ready with a secret knowing smile.

He was wrong. It wasn't Brendan. It was the new guy.

"Now then, son," said Simon, in a voice that would charm a wasp, "we don't want to be doing anything we'll regret in the morning."

"You think I give a fuck?!" shouted the angry man, shaking free of Simon's grasp, and Ste half expected a miserable life story. Instead the man slurred "Give me back my drink!"

"I think it's time you got out, mate," said Simon, casually, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. He shrugged that off too, and made another attempt to grab Ste, who realised too late he had just been stood staring.

"Woah!" said Simon, grabbing the guys arm and twisting it behind his back. "Come on, mate," he added. The man struggled and cursed in pain, as Simon used the trapped arm to guide him out of the club. He passed Brendan on the way, who looked curiously on having just reached the door. Simon grinned, proud of himself "I got this, boss," he sang, and Brendan watched him go.

"What happened?" Brendan asked, and looked at Ste, "you alright?"

"Yeah..." Ste started, ready to explain it all.

"New doorman stopped Ste over there becoming a messy puddle on the floor," interrupted Jacqui, casually, "he's a bit of alright, i'n't he?"

Ste looked after the doorman. He supposed he was, and if his mind hadn't been so full of Brendan he might have noticed before then.

His gaze sprang to Brendan. He didn't need to fuel any more jealousy. But Brendan was looking the same way Ste was. "Yeah," said Brendan in a low voice. "Handles himself well does our Walker." He looked at the last few stragglers, "You, out!" he ordered, and didn't even wait to see if he was obeyed. Luckily for Ste, Rhys and Jacqui, he was.

But Ste had new worries. What the hell did Brendan mean by that? Was he noticing that Simon was a bit of alright? Was he getting tired of Ste's weakness? Of how pathetic he was? Maybe Brendan's attention could only be held this long. It wasn't like Ste really knew Brendan. And Simon was handsome. And strong. And capable.

"You alright there, Ste?" said Jacqui.

"Yeah," said Ste, thoughtfully.

"Well, then, get on with the washing up!" said Jacqui.

Ste nodded. He would have to wait and see what happened. What else was there to do?

**AN: Bit short, but am more than halfway through the next one and have the weekend to write it, so hopefully not too long! Reviews encourage hard work!**

**x**


	35. Chapter 35

Ste waited for Brendan. Then he waited some more. The cellar was spotless, the bar was shining and stocked, and Jacqui, Rhys, Theresa, all the bar staff had gone, all curious as to why Ste hadn't left with them.

He waited in the cellar at first, sat on a barrel, but there wasn't much too look at except empty barrels, so then he moved to the bar, and sat in the darkness by a table. Then he got bored and knocked on the office door. There was no answer.

He felt disappointed for a moment. Brendan had gone without him? How did he get out of the building without Ste leaving? And why hadn't he locked all the doors? Ste wondered up the backstairs. There were gas lamps still lit all the way up. Surely Brendan wouldn't have been happy to just go leaving the club like this?

He went all the way up, the trail of lights still on and guiding his way to the Greek room. He stopped outside. From within came the sound of laughter.

He didn't knock, but he didn't barge in either. He just found himself in a bit of a hurry.

Brendan and Simon were sat close together, both holding a glass of an amber liquid. The laughter stopped when Ste entered as both men turned to see who had interrupted. Their faces held curiosity and a light that showed the laughter Ste had heard was genuine.

"Oh," Ste mumbled, "sorry."

He had a desperate urge to run, like the image of these two men sat next to each other companionably was somehow as terrifying as Danny's whole force had been. But Brendan just greeted him, "Steven," he said, darkly, "why don't you get off home, see them kids of yours. We won't be long."

It was about as distinct as any way of saying 'Get lost,' that Ste could imagine, and it kind of hurt. He nodded, not trusting his voice not to show his over-reaction.

"It was great to meet you, Ste," said Simon, kindly, "I'd love to get to know you better. Tomorrow, maybe."

Ste gave Simon a little smile before he turned, but before he could get far, he heard Brendan's voice again.

"Actually, Steven, why don't you join us?"

Ste's heart leapt a little in hope. Maybe he wasn't out in the cold after all. He turned back, and was surprised to find Brendan wasn't looking at him. He was staring at Simon, gaze dark. "Alright," Ste said anyway, again trying to pretend Brendan's change of mind didn't affect him as much as it did.

He made his way over, and realised Brendan was indicating the spot right beside himself on the long chair he was sat upon. He still wasn't looking at Ste, so Ste just flopped down on it, and waited with curiosity.

Suddenly Brendan's hand was on his thigh, curving around, fingers on the inside. He nearly jumped a mile and stared at Simon, momentarily terrified. Bad things happened when people found out he was sleeping with Brendan, and he was shocked Brendan had done anything as intimate as this where someone could see, let alone someone they barely knew. Simon raised an eyebrow and looked at the hand for a moment, and his eyes only returned to Brendan when the Irishman started to speak again.

"You were explaining where you were before you showed up at my club," said Brendan, lightly, voice giving no indication that he was feeling anything about his hand being on a young man's leg.

"Yes I was," said Simon, "Well as I said I was working for the man as they say," he looked at Ste again with a small frown, "but there was a misunderstanding and said man made it impossible for me to work there. He had some sort of problem with me, I guess."

"What sort of problem?" asked Brendan, but Walker just shrugged.

"The usual," he mumbled, "pretty wife, jealous husband, load of bollocks."

Brendan took a thoughtful sip of his whiskey, looking the man over intently, as though trying to read his very soul. His hand rested on Ste's thigh, and as Walker's reaction had been so non-existent, Ste began to allow himself to enjoy it.

Simon emptied his glass with one swift gulp, "Well, as cosy as this is, Brady," he said, amiably "I don't suppose I'm getting paid for it, so unless you've got some more whisky on offer, I think I'll be calling it a night." He slammed the glass down on the table and stood to go.

"Stop," said Brendan, forcefully, in his tone that was impossible to ignore. Simon was no exception. He turned his whole body to look expectantly at Brendan. "I've got a job for ye," said Brendan, "in the morning. If you're interested."

Ste looked between them, silently, wondering. Simon crossed his arms. "What sort of job?" he asked.

"The kind you find out when you agree to it," said Brendan, cryptically.

Simon's face showed no reaction. "The dodgy kind, then?"

"Now what would make you say something like that?" said Brendan, his tone suddenly playful.

Simon gave a half smile. On some faces it would have looked crooked and creepy, but it kind of suited Simon's. "Must be my suspicious nature," he said, then added with emphasis, "boss."

Brendan smiled, taking his hand off Ste's thigh for a moment to hold it out to Simon. "I'll see you in the morning, then," he said confidently.

Simon didn't hesitate. "In the morning," he said, and took the proffered hand and shook it once. His eyes, which had been glued to Brendan's, passed over Ste as he turned away to leave.

"What's in the morning?" asked Ste, stupidly.

Brendan was silent for a moment. The hand had returned to Ste's leg the moment Simon had let it go, but soon after Walker's steps had passed out of hearing, it wandered higher up Ste's thigh. "Nothing for you to worry about," Brendan said in a low throaty grumble.

If the hand hadn't got so much higher, Ste might have remembered to be annoyed, instead of gasping like a little girl with a crush.

"If he ever touches you," Brendan whispered, "I'll cut his balls off."

If Ste's balls hadn't been so interested in what Brendan's hands were doing, he might have managed to point out that that was an overreaction. As it was, he managed a smile, "If he had an affair with his boss's wife, I doubt he'll be interested in a skinny, stupid boy."

Brendan sighed, "I thought we got over that already Steven," the hand slipped up to Ste's fly, "you don't put yourself down, now. And if one more person shows up interested in you, I'm going to have to lock you in a tower." He made deft work of getting into Ste's pants and finding his shaft.

Ste laughed, despite his arousal. "I think you need to remember I ain't a girl!" he said.

"Seriously? You think I've forgotten you're a boy?" said Brendan, amused, "I've got my hand on your cock."

"Only when it suits you," said Ste, but quietly.

Brendan's hand grasped him firmly, cutting off anything else Ste was going to say. "What? Am I not being rough enough with ye? That it? Want me to throw you around the place? I haven't exactly been gentle with ye as it is."

Half of Ste wanted to point out he didn't mean anything about the sex. The sex was perfect as it was. The other half had an image of Brendan taking him over the bar, making him scream loud enough to wake the dead. There was nothing bad about that image that he could think of, but if he were to compete with Simon Walker's strength and easy charm, he had to push it. He had to push Brendan.

He grasped Brendan's head with both hands and kissed him. Dislodging Brendan's hand, he pressed his body against the older man's, pushing him down. He felt Brendan smirk into the kiss, and grasp his arse firmly, so he pushed him to lie on his back, his own body flat on top, Brendan still holding his arse. His own trousers were hanging open and flopping down below his arse, so he let go of Brendan's head long enough to attack the Irishman's trousers.

Brendan's cock escaped its confines to stand, glorious, huge and erect. To Ste it was something amazing, and he took it in his hand. He knew what to do, what would have given himself pleasure, but he needed to take his time here. He was in control, suddenly, and such a chance may never come again. He wet his palm and gave Brendan's cock a slow stroke from root to tip, making its owner groan. The sound went straight to Ste's own groin, but he had to put that aside, as he teased Brendan's flesh mercilessly, stroking and gripping and tantalising him. He couldn't keep it up for long though before he needed to taste it.

And Brendan let him, didn't try to push him in any way, but lay back on the bench, watching Ste pleasure him as he chose, and rewarding him with pants and moans of encouragement. Ste felt his own arousal build in sympathy. Brendan's cock in his mouth felt second best to only one other sensation, but he soon felt he had to move on or he'd go mad.

He lifted his head and kissed a quick trail up Brendan's body. Brendan's hands found his slim frame then, gripping his waist and back and arse, bringing them closer, finding lips and almost attacking them with need. Their cocks touched and both gasped.

"Ride it, Steven," breathed Brendan, "Ride it."

"Sounds fun, but no," said Ste, drunk on the excitement and the power. He had brought out this desperation in Brendan, this need in him. He was going to use it. He slipped a hand back down Brendan's body, feeling the muscles beneath the infuriating clothes that still lingered. They would have to go next time. He was too worked up right now to do anything about them. He pushed Brendan's trousers further down. Brendan lifted his hips to help. When he had them far enough away, he slipped the hand between Brendan's legs, behind his balls, until he reached the small puckered hole behind.

Ste grinned to find it, but the feeling of pride was over in a moment, replaced by a feeling of falling, and a sudden hard edge of a nearby table as he was thrown unceremoniously away from Brendan. The table at his back and the floor on his arse would bruise. And for a few moments he couldn't move with the shock and pain. The hands that reached his neck seconds later increased all of those feelings.

"Never do that, never touch me there, ever, do you hear?" yelled a voice above him.

Ste spluttered, beyond confused by what had just happened.

"Do you understand?" the voice yelled, furiously, "Never, ever, ever try that again. If you do that again I will kill you! Do you hear me?"

It was Brendan. Brendan was threatening to kill him, and he was terrified and horrified and so confused. The grip on his neck choked him then, closing in, and all Ste could do was nod, agreeing to whatever would stop this happening.

The grip went as quickly as it arrived. Ste still felt shocked and could feel his body shaking. His surroundings came back to him, and above him was Brendan, his face pale and eyes wild, and Ste felt for a moment like he was looking onto the face of the devil, wounded and fierce and inhuman. Still gasping for breath, still shaking like a leaf, he knew what he had to do. He stumbled clumsily to his feet, knocking the table as he did.

"Steven," he heard a quiet voice protest, but it was irrelevant. The man he thought he was falling in love with was not real. The creature in this room was a monster, he could see it now. The devil had tried to trap him in the underworld with his poisoned fruit, but this was his true face, and Ste had to go.

He hit more tables and furniture as he ran, cursing himself for his stupidity and pulling his trousers up and closed as he ran. He had only one place he could run, the only place a father could go when he feared for his safety. He had put his whole family in the power of this man.

He had to cling to the banister as he ran down the stairs on shaky legs, gasping for the breath to escape, but he didn't stop, even when he fell and grazed his hand on the pavement outside. He ran all the way to Brendan's house, and all the way up to his children. He flung the door open and was thankful for how deeply his children slept when neither stirred beyond their beautiful deep breathing. Amy did though, jumping up at the sound. Even in the darkness he could see her light hair and pale face.

"Ste?" she gasped, "is that you?"

"Yeah," he said, hoping the darkness would hide the worst of his distress, "Don't worry, just go back to sleep." He shut the door behind him.

"Are you…" Amy started, but he interrupted.

"Go back to sleep!" he repeated, firmly while trying not to be loud, but didn't stir from the doorway. He listened for the sound of following footsteps, of murderous men. He felt behind him for the lock, but even once he was certain Brendan could not enter he did not go to bed. He wouldn't have slept anyway. Instead, he sat with his back against the door and listened.


	36. Chapter 36

**AN: Thanks for the reviews. Am reading as I type. Was going to take into account what people say, but you all want different things, so tough, you're all getting what I want! Mwa ha ha ha ha! (Laughs like a maniac with power.)**

**Enjoy!**

Ste was woken by a soft knock on the door behind him. He hadn't been deeply asleep, though the sheer length of the previous day was enough to exhaust him into a light sleep it was a very uncomfortable position, but he shot up at the sound, and Brendan's voice that followed made him freeze.

"Steven?" he called quietly through the wood. Ste stayed silent, fearfully, and after a few seconds even his breathing stopped when he saw the handle move beside him. But he had remembered to lock the door, so Brendan could not get in to him.

"Steven, I know you're in there," said Brendan quietly, "why else would the door be locked? I know you wouldn't run off and leave your family. Answer me, won't ye?"

Ste kept silent. Brendan knowing he was there didn't make him want to talk to the man.

"Look, Steven, I just want to apologise."

Ste kept quiet. The devil was good with tricks. He played a good act at remorse. Terry did an apologetic face that could persuade St Peter to open the pearly gates. He'd use it every time he'd hurt Pauline, but it didn't stop him drinking, or the violence that inevitably followed. He never even bothered using it on Ste though.

Each time Brendan spoke, he waited for an answer that Ste was in no mood to give. He knocked softly on the door again, and Ste could imagine him leaning in, resting his forehead against the wood. His expression would be sad, and even in his fear and distrust, the thought of Brendan looking so broken made Ste want to hold him. He had to remind himself, it wasn't true. It was a trap, all of it. The pomegranates to keep him in the underworld. But though Ste had made a choice that put him here, he didn't have to stay.

Brendan kept on trying, "I know you're angry with me, I shouldn't have behaved like that, I just… I…" Brendan choked, like even though he'd had all night to think of them, the words wouldn't come. Maybe he'd not spent any time thinking of them. Maybe he'd gone to Simon. Or that lad Macca.

"Daddy? Why are you crying?"

Leah was awake. Amy was too, but she was just sitting on the bed, watching silently. Leah clambered down from the bed and padded over to him. Brendan must have heard her speak. Ste heard him shuffling on the other side of the door.

"Look, I'm not gonna bang the door down, just… don't run away, yeah? Let me explain."

"Why is Mr Brady talking to you through the door?" asked Leah. "Did he make you cry?"

It went against every instinct Ste had to not answer his child, but he couldn't. He hushed her with a finger to his lips, then pulled her into his lap.

"Steven, do you want this conversation where your kids can hear?"

Was that a threat? If Brendan tried, Ste didn't know what he'd do. Hit him, probably, which would not go well for Ste.

"No," he said, simply, quietly, unable to hold in the emotion despite knowing he should be strong for the tiny girl in his arms.

Brendan couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice, "Then come out and talk to me, Steven!"

And be hurt in front of his children instead? He'd rather die. "No," he said, simply.

"Steven!" Brendan's voice was exasperated, but it quickly turned resigned, "Ok… OK," Ste could hear him sigh, "come to the club, later, we'll sit in the bar where people can see us so you know I won't… and… and we'll talk."

It did not sound appealing. Ste shouldn't listen. It'd be just like what happened between his Mum and Terry. Some people are just wrong, made by the devil. Brendan was one of them. Just like Terry.

But Ste needed a job.

"Ok," he said quietly. "At the club. When it opens."

"Ok," said Brendan again, "Ok," he repeated, with relief. "Ok," he said yet again, as though grounding himself. "I'm… I'll…"

"Just go, Brendan," said Ste, tiredly. He has a family who he can't keep locked in this room forever, even if he hasn't slept at all today.

He heard one last breathy "Ok," from Brendan, and then feet descending.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" asked Amy.

"Shh," said Ste, stroking Leah's back as the little girl clung to him. It was over a minute before he heard the door slam far below and he allowed himself a breath. "Let's get the kids up and playing or something," he said, "it's not something they want to hear."

"I want to know why you're crying!" protested Leah into his chest.

"I'm not crying, sweetheart, I'm fine," he tried to assure her, "really. Will you wake your brother up?"

She knew he was lying, but didn't know how to deal with it. She did as he told her, and padded over to where Lucas was still breathing deeply and prodded him with a finger. Amy just looked at Ste, sadly.

"What did he do?" she asked. Ste was certain there were red marks around his neck that would make any lie pointless.

"Not here," he said, and made himself busy. The kids needed dressing and sorting, then feeding. He didn't let Amy do any of it. He needed the excuse to delay talking to her, so he worked, quietly, talking only to the kids. Though time crept slowly, and nothing seemed to fill it all up. He would have to sit down with her.

He let the kids out to play in the yard, and turned to her. "Alright, ask away."

He slumped in a seat at the table, and she perched beside him, nervously. "So, what happened?" she asked, nervously.

Ste sighed. He didn't know how to tell her. How could you put into words something like this.

"How did he upset you?" she asked after a few moments silence, "did he sleep with someone else?"

"No," said Ste, then thought about Simon. They were meeting today. Probably as he spoke. "I don't think so."

"Then what?" she asked.

Ste breathed, swallowed, did any other little things he could do to delay speaking. Eventually he managed, "He scared me."

She kept looking at him, waiting patiently for him to tell her in his own time.

"He… hurt me." The tears came unbidden and unstoppable. They felt impossible to stop. He couldn't even carry on, couldn't face telling her about the threat. Tears and sobs interrupted anything else he would have said.

She put a hand on his arm. "Like you used to hurt me?" she asked.

He nodded. It felt wrong to suggest Brendan's actions worse now she'd made the link, like it would undermine what she'd gone through.

She nodded her understanding, and watched the children play through the kitchen window. Ste looked there too. The two things that were most important. Was he being weak for even letting this hurt?

"What do you want to do?" asked Amy.

Ste returned his gaze to her, "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Do you want to run again? Like we did from Terry?"

Ste thought about it, hard. Did he want to run? Did he need to escape? Was it possible?

"We don't have any money," he said, "I can't steal it from Brendan, we can't take the risk."

She nodded, "No, but that doesn't mean we can't run."

Ste thought a bit longer, "I've got a job here. We've got a place to stay…"

"That's all dependent on him, though, isn't it?" she reminded him, "if he decides to take it away…"

Ste knew that. It was what had been worrying him.

"But," she said, "you don't want to run away. Do you?"

She understood him so well, nowadays. How had everything come so far since those days of tears and misery?

"I stopped hurting you," he said, hopefully.

"I know," she said, "you haven't hurt me since Lucas was born."

Ste thought about that. It wasn't correct, "Not since I knew you were pregnant with him."

Amy nodded. Did she want him to give Brendan another chance? Or did she want them to run?

"But… we haven't slept together since then, either," she said. And that was true, as well. That was the time he'd stopped seeing her as a girl he wanted to shag, and started seeing her as family. She'd somehow become precious to him. The angel that was making his child, who showed him who he was behaving like. Ste couldn't be that for Brendan, though. Eileen was his Amy. Ste was just a toy he liked to play with, that he could throw around and discard and pick up whenever he wanted.

"I think," said Amy, "that you should listen to him."

There was both hope and fear in that for Ste.

"You haven't had any luck finding a job anywhere else," she said, "but if you can keep that job, I can find us somewhere else to live. Somewhere safe. Where he can't get to you."

Leave the Brady's home? He supposed there was no reason to stay anymore. So long as they didn't go back to where they were, Danny's men shouldn't find them.

"Unless you want him to?" Amy added, thoughtfully. She knew better than anyone what it was like to want to stay with someone when the world knew you shouldn't. She gave him a sad smile, and he gave her one back. When they hugged it felt right, like how he imagined hugging a sister should feel. Warm and comforting.

They spent the remainder of the morning working on chores in the Brady household. There was a huge amount of cleaning to be done. The dust settled everywhere, and all they could do was shift it around, and try to get as much of it as possible in cloths that they could beat outside. Amy went shopping too, buying things for the family with money from a pot in the kitchen. She said she assumed Brendan filled it, but wasn't certain.

It wasn't long after they'd fed the kids some dinner that Ste decided it was time to go to the club. It was about an hour before opening time when he arrived, and he could see a handful of cleaners milling around. He didn't do any work, deciding to wait to see what happened with Brendan, instead he sat in the bar, like he had on that first day when he'd seen Macca thrown from the building. The bar staff arrived around him, but Brendan didn't show, and Ste couldn't help but wonder what he and Walker had been up to.

"Ste, there you are, you coming to help or what?" demanded Jacqui when she saw him.

"Er, not?" he said, nervously.

"Oh, great!" she replied, "another one who thinks he's above doing actual work. You can tell Brendan when you see him exactly why nothing's ready, yeah?"

Ste tutted, but stayed where he was despite a desire to tell her exactly what he thought of her and her strops. He turned when he heard a laugh at the door.

"You do know how to get on her tits," said Simon as he leaned casually against the frame. The pose was a good imitation of Brendan's, like he owned the place and everything he saw there. Ste had to remind himself Simon was just an employee, no higher up than Ste.

"Well, she does a good job of getting on everyone else's," Ste answered, sulkily.

Simon smiled, "Maybe," he said, and came to sit by Ste. "So, why aren't you helping?" he asked, casually.

"None of your business," Ste snapped without thinking. He had just imagined Brendan and Simon kissing in an alleyway as they ran from a scene of crime laden with riches, Brendan allowing Walker to touch him wherever Simon wanted to touch.

Simon actually laughed at him, "Friendly chap, aren't ya?" he said.

"Well, you know what you can do about it, don't ya!" Ste replied.

Simon looked at him, "I thought we were getting on yesterday?"

It took the wind out of Ste's sails a bit. He had kind of like Simon yesterday. He'd been friendly and kind and normal. "Sorry," said Ste resignedly.

"I think you've been upset by something, and I was the first person you felt you could take it out on, right?" said Simon.

"Sorry," said Ste again. It hadn't been OK to react like that. If Brendan fancied and like Simon more than he liked Ste, it was hardly Simon's fault. The only person to blame was Ste. "How was that job then?"

"What, for Brendan?" asked Simon, and glanced around to check they weren't being overheard, "yeah, fine. Didn't Brendan tell you about it?"

"No," Ste admitted, while trying to sound like that didn't bother him a jot.

"Really?" said Simon, "I mean, you seemed ... close yesterday."

Close. What a way to put it. "You're not going to say anything about that, are ya?" asked Ste.

Simon grinned at him, "I'm completely trustworthy, me, Ste."

Ste tried to smile a grateful smile back, "Thanks," he said.

"To people who are trustworthy with me, of course," Simon added. "To people who don't mention things they might have seen to their bosses. The fag breaks, for example."

He had just a hint of uncertainty in his voice, like he was worried he'd shared a secret with Ste already, trusting him not to mention the break to Brendan when they were so close. It made Ste smile to think they could rely upon each other. "Shake on it?" Ste suggested with a smile.

Walker held out his hand, "I should think so," he said with a grin, and they shook. Simon held on slightly longer than Ste would have, like he was trying to show him they really could be friends.

A shadow fell on them just as Simon was letting go.

"This looks cosy," said Brendan. "Steven, office, now."

"Er, no," said Ste. Had Brendan already forgotten? "You said we could talk where people could see."

Brendan looked at him a moment, then rolled his eyes. Simon looked between them, curiously.

"If I tried that, I wouldn't have been able to walk away," he muttered.

"Right," said Brendan, "so walk away very quickly right now, in case I decide I don't want you to."

"Anything you say boss," said Simon casually, as though being threatened with broken legs was an everyday occurrence and not the least terrifying. He even winked at Ste as he went, with a cheerful "See you Ste."

Brendan glared after him, "What was all that about?" he demanded.

Ste gave him a glare, "We work together; we will talk to each other sometimes."

"He's a handsome man," said Brendan, with just enough challenge in his voice to rile Ste.

"He what you wanted to talk to me about?" he said, angrily.

"No," said Brendan, quietly.

"So?" Ste prompted, and when Brendan didn't answer, added, "Now was when you were going to explain why it's OK for you to half strangle me and then threaten to kill me."

Brendan positively scowled, "Was I now?"

Ste said nothing, but tried to scowl back, look forbidding, hope Brendan wouldn't try to hurt him again if he looked strong enough and there were people who could see. Brendan's scowl deepened.

"That's just the way this works, boy," he growled quietly, "I'm in charge, you do as you're told."

"And take the beatings?" said Ste accusingly, "You promised me!"

"Did I?" said Brendan, his breathing loud now, and if Ste hadn't been so angry he might have noticed his own fear.

"You told me you wouldn't hurt me again, that it was just because you were angry, and I understood because of what happened with Declan, but last night... I didn't do anything!"

Brendan's face was growing darker as he spoke, and Ste still didn't understand "And I'm making you angry just by saying what happened!" he cried, exasperated.

Brendan sniffed, and looked at the table, "I'm... I'm not… I'm…"

Ste interrupted. He couldn't wait for Brendan to pretend not to be a monster so he could go through it all again. "I need a job," he said, "are you going to sack me?"

"No…" said Brendan.

"OK," said Ste, "so Amy's looking for a new place to live. We can avoid each other while we're here, I'll stay in the lower bar and the cellar, and I'll keep my head down. If I find something else, I'll take it. We won't even have to look at each other."

"Steven," Brendan protested.

"I'll be getting on then," Ste said, not wanting to hear it. He stood and strode as quickly as he could to the stairs, and went down to help Jacqui. He didn't check to see how long Brendan watched him go.

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	37. Chapter 37

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! This chapter sets up some significant things. **

**Enjoy!**

Ste was not hiding in the cellar.

He did spend much longer than necessary in the cellar, and definitely more time than he strictly needed to in there. But that was not the same as hiding. And it did have its advantages. The air was cool, it was much calmer and quieter than the bar above, and there was absolutely no sign of Brendan.

The highlight was definitely when Simon showed up.

He came in the back, while Ste was up to his elbows in warm water, and gave him a cheeky grin and a cheekier "Hallo."

"Alright?" said Ste with a smile of his own.

"So how's your night going?" asked Simon, as he lit a cigarette.

"I'm standing next to a great big pile of washing up, most of which will end up on your head if you ask something like that again," replied Ste.

Simon laughed, "Understood," he grinned, "but the way I hear it, this is your choice. Someone you're trying to avoid?"

Ste rolled his eyes. "What do you think?"

"Me?" said Simon, smoking happily, "I don't have opinions. They tend to get in the way of getting any supper."

"I wasn't asking your opinion!" Ste replied, but with humour. He realised he genuinely liked Simon. He was funny and relaxed and charming, and so long as he wasn't using that charm on Brendan, Ste could really let himself enjoy the man's company. "How do you get on with him?" Ste asked, trying not to sound as worried about what the answer might be as he felt.

"Who?" asked Simon, then grinned, "our esteemed leader?"

"Yeah," said Ste, coldly, "him."

Simon seemed to genuinely consider the question, but then glanced around nervously. "He ain't listening is he?"

Ste smiled, "No, course not."

"Because there was this conversation we had, before, where I let you know I was on a break, and the next thing I know Brendan's got his hands all over you," said Simon, mock nervously.

Ste snorted, "Yeah, well that ain't happening again," he announced with surety.

"So, you're not such a big fan of the boss right now?" asked Simon.

Ste was about to answer when he realised what Simon had managed to do, "Hey, how did this suddenly become about me? I asked you the question!"

Simon grinned at him, "You need to learn how to play your cards closer to your chest," he said, "sweet lad like you in particular."

"Eyar, I ain't sweet!" said Ste, "and anyway, we weren't talking about me." He pulled his hands out of the sink and looked Simon dead in the face, "It's your turn. What do you think about Brendan?"

Simon looked at him and took a long drag on his cigarette with a twinkle in his eye, like once again he was considering his answer deeply. Eventually he said "He's alright."

"He's alright?" repeated Ste

Simon shrugged, "A bit grumpy."

"Alright and a bit grumpy?" Ste repeated, "that all you've got to say?"

"Yeah," said Simon, "I think that sums him up quite well."

"Oh, well you're a lot of help!" Ste cried.

Simon grinned at him, "What did you want?"

"I don't know, some sort of genuine insight?" said Ste, not returning the grin.

"Well you've known him longer than me," said Simon, taking another drag on his cigarette.

"Yeah, but…" said Ste, "well, what did he want you to do today?"

Simon shrugged, "Something dodgy."

"What?" Ste repeated, still curious.

Simon flicked ash outside the door, "He told me not to say."

"Not to say what?" Ste tried.

"Anything," said Simon, "then a few minutes ago he told me if he saw me chatting to you again he'd cut my balls off." He sighed, "I like to think he's over exaggerating."

Ste flushed, embarrassed and annoyed, but still curious enough to try a different tack He went for as casual as he could, "But you can tell me what he's up to, I mean, he'll probably tell me himself soon."

"Nice try," said Simon, "but if I'm not supposed to talk to you at all, I think it'll look a bit suspicious if you suddenly know something only I could have told you."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't get to decide who I talk to!" said Ste, angrily. Who did Brendan think he was? Ste was pretty sure he'd done the closest to calling off their illegal, non-spoken of arrangement that any illegal, non-spoken of arrangement could possibly be. And even if he hadn't, he didn't get to control who Ste was friends with.

"Yeah, but for the sake of my testicles, which I do prize very highly, could we not mention this conversation to anyone else?" suggested Simon.

Ste nodded, studying him. "But you still started talking to me," he said. "Aren't you scared he'll do it?"

Simon shrugged, "A bit. But he'd have to catch me first."

Ste worried a lip. Simon looked fit and strong, but Ste knew Brendan was something else. Strong, but sneaky, underhand and clever. "I won't tell," he said.

"Thank you, Steven," said Simon with a smile.

Ste shivered, "Just, do me a favour…"

Simon put the cigarette out with a foot, "Depends on what it is, Steven."

"Don't call me that," said Ste. "It's Ste."

Simon didn't question it. He just accepted it, instantly. He nodded, kindly. "I can do that," he said.

"Thanks," said Ste, in a quiet voice, like a child.

Simon smiled, and shoved his hands in his pockets, "Well, my balls have told me I've been risking their safety long enough, now," he announced "it's time to get back to keeping the scum out." He half turned to go, but stopped, looking at Ste over his shoulder, "Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

"I'd like that," said Ste, completely honestly, "and I'm pretty sure your balls are quite safe."

Then he realised that comment could be taken in a number of ways. He blushed, but Simon just laughed, "See ya, Ste," he said, as he disappeared up the stairs.

Ten minutes later Jacqui marched down and ordered him to get his arse in gear and help her serve. Realising he could put interacting with everyone else off no longer, Ste accepted it and made his way up. Still Brendan was nowhere to be seen, and Ste wondered if he was up in the Greek room entertaining more dodgy people, or even finding himself a new shag. Both thoughts made him sad, even as they satisfied him that he had made the right call on Brendan.

He served politely but distractedly, always checking for the tell tale tall slim but muscular frame of Brendan each time someone entered. But he never did, so each time Ste returned to his duties not sure if he should feel satisfied or disappointed.

Cheryl came flapping down to them a few hours into the night, "Here, Jacqui, have you seen our Brendan?"

"No, not for ages," said Jacqui carelessly, dumping a customer's change in their outstretched palm.

Ste's ears pricked up, though he tried to pretend otherwise. He didn't listen to the man in front of him while the women were talking, "He seemed so down today, and I don't even know why."

Jacqui tutted, "It's just 'cause he is, isn't it? He's always like that."

"No, he's not!" Cheryl cried, annoyed. "I'm going to look for him."

She returned ten minutes later. Ste had managed to serve a lot of people, but there seemed to be more every moment. He still ignored them all to eavesdrop on Cheryl.

"He's sat in the office feeling sorry for himself," said Cheryl, "It must be about Eileen going off, poor love."

"Yeah, amazing," said Jacqui, sarcastically, and returned to serving, "what can I get you, love?"

"He just needs some fun, I think," said Cheryl, "Ste love, why don't you stay for a drink after work?"

Ste nearly dropped the glass he was holding, "Er, can't Cheryl, the kids…"

"Maybe I'll ask that Simon then," mused Cheryl, "he seems a nice lad, doesn't he Jacqui?"

"Oh, yeah, if by nice you mean face like an angel, personality of a demon," said Jacqui.

"Best sort, isn't it?" laughed Cheryl. Ste didn't laugh along, he was too busy picturing Brendan looking morose, and wondering if he was to blame. But that was stupid. Brendan was to blame. He was the violent one. What had he expected Ste to do?

The evening had grown late before he noticed Doug. In fact it was only a short while before closing. He had perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, where Rhys was doing his best to persuade him he'd had enough, but he was not having any of it. Rhys was just getting ready to throw him out when Ste intervened.

"Doug, how are ye?" he said, "Er, don't worry Rhys, I'll look after him."

"Oh, you'll look after me, will you?" sneered Doug, as Rhys shrugged and wondered off, "like your friend looked after my business?"

"I think you've had enough to drink now, you know," said Ste, ignoring the ramblings which he assumed to be nonsense.

"Actually, I don't think I have! I still remember my name, and the name of the guy who ruined everything!" Doug's voice was rising to a shout, "Brendan fucking Brady!"

"Here, keep your voice down!" hissed Ste. He'd managed the impossible of keeping out of Brendan's way all night, he was not going to have Doug ruin it with some nonsense.

"Why should I? He ruined my business, why I shouldn't I ruin his?!"

"You call that a business?" cried Ste, "that was petty crime!"

"Yeah, 'cause this place is totally sparkling white!"

"You need to calm down!" insisted Ste.

Doug suddenly went from angry to morose. "Why did he do it, Ste? Why? That was my livelihood! If I can't work, I'll starve!"

Ste sighed. Jacqui and Rhys were starting to throw people out, and mostly being quite successful. "Look, wait here," he told Doug as he came out from behind the bar to help with the clear up duty. There weren't many stragglers today, most of them went as they were egged on, but Doug sat miserably at the bar, and refused anything Rhys said.

"I'll handle it," Ste insisted to Rhys, but wasn't sure how. "Why don't you go home, eh? Things'll seem better in the morning."

"What, when I wake up in an alley under a newspaper!" said Doug, his voice rising until he was shouting again.

"You're homeless?" asked Ste, not believing it.

"Yeah, thanks to your boss!" Doug got up, presumably to illustrate his point, and swayed on his feet, then fell heavily back down and snored.

Ste took a decision, "Wait here!" he said again.

He rushed to the front door. Simon was urging people out into what Ste realised was a cold night. He couldn't let Doug stay out in this.

"Simon," he started.

"Ste!" greeted Simon, pleasantly, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Ste smiled, hopefully, "Could you possibly do me another favour?"

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	38. Chapter 38

**Wow, lovely reviews to chapter 37, even though not much happens. Thanks all you lovely people! Stuff will happen here, I promise!**

"Where are we taking him?" asked Simon, holding the semi-conscious Doug up with one arm around his chest, with as much difficulty as Ste would have had had Doug been made of air. Ste had been trying to help until he realised he was more of a hindrance.

"Just a bit further," he said, as Doug groaned, "thanks for this."

"Don't mention it," said Simon, casually. Ste led them into the alleyway behind the houses. If he had Doug sleep in the other attic room, while he shared with Amy and the kids again, he wouldn't be in Brendan's way at all. And it was just a bed, they wouldn't light the fire or anything. It wasn't like it would cost the Brady's anything.

Simon was looking curiously around him, "Do you really live around here?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.

"Er, it's a long story," Ste replied, trying to avoid said story. Simon may suspect what had happened with him and Brendan, but something told Ste that Brendan would not be happy to know that Simon knew where he lived, or that Ste lived with him. "We're right at the top, just the attic really."

"We?" asked Simon, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice.

Ste hesitated, "Me and my family," he said, slowly.

Simon sniffed, "You live with your parents?" he asked, "and there's me thinking you were all street-wise and independent."

"No," said Ste, still slowly, still not at all sure he wanted to tell this man any of this, "my children and their mother,"

Simon looked at him as though he were mad, "You can't have children, you're what, sixteen?"

"I'm twenty-two!" Ste protested, angrily, "but I was about that when we made the first one, anyway."

"Jesus Christ!" cried Simon, "you're a father!"

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Ste, "and what does it matter if I am? I'm a good Dad and I do my job and provide for them!"

"And you do a few extra things at that job, too," whispered Simon with a smile over Doug's shoulder.

"Shut up!" hissed Ste, looking at Doug with alarm.

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's completely out of it," said Simon, confidently, "but I already said, your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks," mumbled Ste, not at all convinced that Doug wasn't going to remember everything in the morning.

"Though, the favours are building up, now Ste," teased Simon, "I hope you're prepared for when I ask repaying."

Ste looked at him to check he was definitely joking. The grin he was sporting and the twinkle in his eye was enough to convince Ste he was, so Ste grinned back.

They arrived outside the Brady house, so Ste opened the doors to allow Simon to drag the drunken mess that was Doug into the house. He took them in the back way, through the kitchens and up the stairs, and all the way up to the attic. He had to help Simon on the stairs, but they managed to get to the top without waking the whole house. The moment Doug's head hit the pillow on Ste's bed, he started snoring lightly. Ste smiled and led Simon back out onto the landing. Simon closed the door, leaving them completely alone on the small bit of floor between the two rooms.

"Thanks," said Ste, honestly, "hopefully he'll just sleep it off and I can send him on his way in the morning."

"It's not a problem," said Simon.

"But thanks, anyway," Ste repeated, worried that he was going to start babbling, that the gap between himself and Simon was tiny, that Simon was looking at him with hunger. "Well I better... erm," he pointed towards the door where his family slept. The thought of them calmed him a little. He wasn't about to start another doomed romance if he kept them at the front of his mind.

"Well, I 'd best be off then," said Simon, making no move to leave.

"Yeah," said Ste. "Er, night."

Simon grinned one more time before disappearing down the stairs. Ste took a gasping breath. What had that been about? Was he actually tempted by Simon Walker? And was it worse to think that maybe Brendan was tempted by the same thing?

He threw open the door behind him, wondering only briefly if he should follow Simon to make sure he left OK. He probably didn't have to, Brendan had hired him as security; he had to have a reason to trust him. He made Amy spring awake, but whispered an apology and tried to get to into bed on the other side of the children and to sleep as silently as possible.

The following day dawned bright, the chill of the night before still in the air, making Ste roll over in bed and delay getting up even when the kids were dressing loudly around him. Amy was looking after them, and he was exhausted. The opportunity didn't last though. A shouted "Steven!" woke him properly.

"Whasgoinon?" he mumbled.

"It's Brendan," hissed Amy, "and he sounds p-i-s-s-e-d"

"Pie seed?" Ste asked with a frown.

"No…" Amy looked at her curious daughter, "annoyed," she said instead.

"Oh," said Ste.

"STEVEN!" shouted Brendan again, and Ste decided it was probably better if he went to Brendan than got shouted at in front of the kids. He threw himself out of bed and dragged on some clothes as he stumbled out of the door. Brendan was in the room across the landing, holding a miserable, hung over Doug by an ear.

"What is this?" he growled.

"Stop it!" groaned Doug. Both Ste and Brendan ignored him.

Ste folded his arms. "His name's Doug," he said.

Brendan growled, "What is it doing in my house?"

"Well he was sleeping last time I looked," said Ste, in the stroppy way he knew he used when he had done something wrong.

"You invited a pickpocket to sleep in my house?!" shouted Brendan, gesticulating with Doug who groaned at the movement.

"No, I let a man, who had nowhere else to go, sleep in a bed that wasn't being used!" said Ste, "And why were you looking in there anyway?"

"I thought y… It's my house, I can look wherever I want!" shouted Brendan.

"You though it was me!" Ste realised, "what were you going to do, beat me to death while I slept?"

"No!" said Brendan in a strangled voice, finally letting go of Doug in his annoyance. Doug took his opportunity, and ran. Ste shouted after him; he couldn't believe the bastard had abandoned him with a furious Brendan, after Ste had helped him out. Brendan didn't seem to care. He caught Ste's arm and swung him back around to face him. "I just wanted to…" Brendan started, then breathed in and out and stared at the floor. When he looked up he was angry again. "Did you sleep with him?" he demanded.

Ste's jaw dropped in disbelief. "I can't believe you!" he cried.

"Well, did ye?" snarled Brendan.

"Maybe," said Ste, voice dripping with sarcasm, "maybe he's just one of a hundred I had over last night, all night long, with my children asleep on the other side of the door!"

Brendan made a noise of disgust, "Oh, you're a funny man, Steven."

"Well it wouldn't be any of your business, would it?" cried Ste.

Brendan let out a noise like a caged bear. Ste flinched back, but Brendan made no move to hurt him. Instead, he stormed out of the room. He turned in the doorway to sneer "If he's nicked anything, it's coming out of your wages!" before storming out and down the stairs.

"What wages?!" Ste shouted after him, but lost his energy straight away. What was wrong with them? Could they do nothing but fight and fuck? Ste had thought Brendan was a good man, he'd seen it with his own eyes, when he'd saved Lucas, when he'd protected Ste from Danny (even if it was in his own twisted way), why did he have to be such a bastard the rest of the time?

He kicked the bed in frustration.

He went down to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Amy had kept the kids upstairs while the shouting was going on, but Ste didn't mind having the space to himself as he looked for some food. When he heard footsteps behind him, he assumed they were Amy's. "Ames, have we got any bread?" he asked, as he went through the cupboards.

"Try the larder," answered Brendan, making Ste jump.

"What do you want?" Ste demanded, angry and humiliated.

"Just to talk," said Brendan, voice low, his previous anger seemingly lost.

Ste's eyes darted to the kitchen door, hoping Amy would come in. He wondered if her presence would make a difference to Brendan.

"I don't know…" Ste tried to say.

"Just, listen to me Steven," Brendan ordered. It didn't calm Ste down, but he did close his mouth and wait for Brendan to start.

"What happened… the other night…" Brendan tried, stumbling over his words, nervously, as he had through the door the day before, "Look, sit down, won't ye? This ain't easy."

Ste did sit down, careful to sit opposite Brendan, and just out of his reach. His own instincts were still to make this easy for Brendan, to encourage him to say whatever he needed to say, but he scolded himself. Had he learnt nothing from watching his mother and step father?

"Look," said Brendan sitting down, "I'm sorry for what I did. And for shouting at ye. I mean, that's just what you do isn't it? Trust people?"

"Not really," said Ste. He didn't trust Brendan right now.

Brendan nodded, "Except me, yeah?" he said, with a sad smile.

"Well, can you blame me?" said Ste, feeling his annoyance rise again.

"No," replied Brendan, honestly, "no."

"Well… was that it? You just wanted to apologise?" asked Ste, managing to stop his temper rising higher.

"No, I wanted to… explain…" said Brendan, slowly.

"Explain why you hurt me?" asked Ste, certain there was no good enough explanation for that.

"Yeah," said Brendan, "what happened… you know… why I…"

And Leah ran in, singing a nursery rhyme. She stopped when she saw Brendan, freezing and staring, like he was an impossible creature in her home. After a moment, she ran to her Daddy and climbed onto his lap, to cling to him.

Ste kept looking expectantly at Brendan, but Brendan was staring at the little girl with almost as much distrust as she'd given him. "Well?" Ste prompted.

Brendan's moustache twitched, but he didn't continue. Maybe it wasn't suitable for children. Or maybe even Brendan drew the line at fighting in front of the under fives. He didn't explain at all though. He just got up. "I'll see you at work," he said, "come to the office, we'll…"

"Brendan," Ste interrupted, "I don't really want to be alone with you."

It was just honesty, but to Ste it felt like he'd physically wounded Brendan with those words.

"Right," mumbled Brendan, "Right."

He wandered off without any more words or instructions. Ste sat where he was for a while, wondering if he should go see him. If he thought about it, Brendan had been trying to talk to him alone since it happened. But Ste would still have preferred to eat broken glass than allow Brendan to hurt him again. It was worse being hurt by Brendan than it ever had been by anyone else. Danny's men had beaten him black and blue, much worse than anything Brendan had done, but it didn't matter to him anything like as much as Brendan's actions did.

In moments, Amy and Lucas had also arrived in the kitchen, and the day began properly. Without the Brendan Brady drama. It was a relief, though he knew it would be short lived. He would still have to go to work.

He made his way there in the afternoon. The sky was a miserable grey, and spots of rain were beginning to fall on the streets when he was making his way to the back entrance. Few people were around, and those that were seemed in a hurry to hide from the rain. He saw Simon stood in the doorway, smoking away. Ste smiled when he saw him, and Simon put the cigarette out with a shoe and put both hands in his pocket.

"Hallo," he greeted with a grin.

"Alright?" said Ste, "Thanks for last night."

"I told ye," said Simon, "it was no problem. I'm sure I can think of a way for you to pay me back."

Ste nodded. He didn't think Simon was the kind of man who'd want blood, or even remember in a couple of days' time, but Ste would be happy to help him out. He was just a kind man.

"Here, Ste," said Simon, looking over Ste's shoulder, "that cloud over there," he nodded up at the sky above the buildings opposite. Ste turned to look. "You think it means there's going to be a storm?"

Ste looked carefully. It was quite a dark cloud, big and ominous. "I don't know, maybe. I don't know much about clouds me," he looked closer, and felt Simon come close behind him, "it is threatening, though, ain't it?"

"Yeah," said Simon, "threatening," and suddenly his hand was over Ste's mouth. And not just a hand, a handkerchief with a funny smell. It covered Ste's mouth and nose. Ste tried to shout in surprise, but the sound was muffled, and his vision was going blurry. He tried to grab Simon's arm, to pull the hand away, but his muscles, which had sprung to tension at the sudden move, were relaxing until he seemed to have no control over any part of his body. Simon pulled Ste's hands down, and held his arms against his chest.

"Sorry Ste," Ste heard Simon mutter in his ear, "It's nothing personal."

And then everything went dark.

**That cliff hanger enough for you?! **

**Reviews will turn the 900 words I've already written of the next bit into a whole chapter. Probably.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Wow. The response to the last chapter was amazing. I am so worried I'm going to upset or disappoint you all with this chapter. From the comments, you guys didn't see where I was going, which is good, but I hope where I have gone isn't actually a disappointment.**

**Really not sure you guys are going to like this... **

**Well, it's not like you had to pay for it.**

The first thing Ste noticed when the world got less dark was that his head felt like it had been trampled by a herd of bulls.

The second was that he was strangely comfortable otherwise. He was lying on his side on something soft, his head higher than the rest of his body, and something warm covered him. He was curled up on himself, tucked snug and cosy.

It took him a while to remember what had happened, that Simon had smothered him with something that made him fall asleep. The memory cleared his mind, made the headache seem irrelevant, and the cosy feeling seem like a lie. He tried to sit up, but realised his hands were tied together in front of him, and to a spindle of some kind. He tugged at the rope, trying to find give, a way to escape, his heart rate rising in panic. A long coat fell off of him as he twisted and turned on what turned out to be a series of cushions on a long seat. His hands were tied to the back. He managed to wriggle into a kneeling position, facing the back of the bench, and tried to force himself to calm down. Pulling the ropes was going to make them tighter, not easier to get off.

What the hell was Simon playing at? Ste had completely misjudged him. Was he working for Danny? Ste doubled his efforts at the thought, wriggling his hands, trying to slip the rope off, but it was snug around his wrists, just tight enough to be secure but fortunately not tight enough to hurt. Eventually he just gave up, "Simon!" he tried to shout, but his voice came out croaky, like he'd not used it in a week.

Tears were leaking from his eyes without his permission. He looked up for any signs of life, of where Simon had gone to wait out his unconsciousness. Then he realised he recognised this room.

The walls were painted with scenes of men and women in white, looking beautiful. He could see Persephone, entranced by the pomegranate seeds, and he knew Simon wasn't to blame for this. He'd probably been following orders. He'd whispered something, hadn't he? An apology? 'Nothing personal'?

He wondered if the pomegranates were the truth of Hades and Persephone's story. Had Hades had to do things like this to keep Persephone? Tying her up in his club?

But maybe Brendan didn't want to keep him anymore? Maybe the fights had been too much, maybe Brendan was bored of Ste now. Maybe Ste shouldn't have argued back, because the arguing back might have been proof to Brendan that Ste didn't just do as instructed now, which to Brendan meant he couldn't be trusted, which to Brendan meant he had to die. Maybe that was what he really had been about to do when he went in to find Doug in Ste's bed.

The thoughts got him struggling anew. He wondered if Cheryl could possibly be on board with such a thing, and decided shouting again was probably not a terrible idea. He shouted for her and for Jacqui and for Rhys and for Simon, begging Simon to change his mind at the top of his voice, but there was no noise from downstairs, no footsteps running up from below. Maybe Brendan had sent them all home. Or maybe they were all loyal to Brendan, and didn't care what happened to his fucks.

"You finished?" said a voice when Ste had finally run out of people to shout for. He whipped his head around in search of its source. Brendan was sat in a tall chair in one corner. He must have been watching him sleep, but Ste hadn't looked that way when he'd searched. Ste wished he could be more certain of the expression, but Brendan was good at hiding what he's really thinking when he wants to. At that moment, he could have been planning methods of torture and death, or ways to blow Ste's mind in more pleasurable ways. The latter was a ridiculous thought at such a moment. Brendan had kidnapped him; it was the worst time possible to think about sex.

"What do you want?" asked Ste in a breathy, childish voice. He hated himself for sounding pathetic, so he tried again, "what do you think you're doing?" It was better, stronger, more in line with who Ste usually was, but the fear still dominated, and Brendan's reaction was an infuriating half smile, like it was amusing him to see Ste like that.

"We have to talk," said Brendan, "I tried to get you alone, but you kept spoiling it, Doug or Walker or…"

"_I_ kept spoiling it?" gasped Ste, "you threatened to kill me!"

"I know!" shouted Brendan, suddenly very definitely angry. Ste pulled himself as far away from Brendan as his bound hands would allow him, clambering over the back of the bench, falling awkwardly down on the other side, trapped uncomfortably leant over, and staring at Brendan warily, waiting for him to make a move, ready to kick and head butt and anything else that could keep Brendan off for moments longer. But the man didn't attack. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his face. "I'm sorry, I am, I'm… sorry," he said in a much quieter voice.

Ste tried to calm down, something which being tied to a chair made difficult.

"Please, don't hurt me again." The words tumbled from his mouth as tears tumbled down his face. Brendan stood at the sounds and took steps towards him, and Ste struggled more. He didn't want to die crying.

Brendan stopped in his tracks. "I'm not going to hurt you, Steven, I swear it!" he said, earnestly, desperately.

"Brendan, look at what you've done!" cried Ste in horror, pulling on his bound hands. Was Brendan completely mad?

"I know, Steven, but you wouldn't listen to me! I had to do something!"

Ste stared at him, wide eyed. Brendan was mad. Completely and utterly. He should be in an asylum.

"Will ye listen to me?" Brendan asked, giving Ste enough space to allow his heart to calm a little, for Ste to hope Brendan really did just want to talk, even if he was completely crazy.

"Do I have a choice?" said Ste, bitterly.

Brendan didn't reply, but looked at the floor, miserably, brokenly. He wasn't going to say 'no' but he meant it.

"Untie me and I will," Ste tried, knowing it would not work.

Brendan shook his head, "If I do that, you'll run, and I'll never see you again."

Brendan was right. That annoyed Ste, and terrified him. "So, you're going to keep me tied up in your club until, what, until you're bored of me?"

Brendan blinked, "No," he said, "just until I've told you what I need you to hear. Then I'll let you do whatever you want. Run away, fight me, kill me, I won't stop ye."

Ste stared. He didn't believe Brendan one bit, but he could hope. And Brendan talking could buy him time, for someone else to arrive or to figure out how to escape. "I'm listening," he said.

Brendan breathed a great sigh of relief. "Ok," he said, slowly, worriedly, "sit down."

That was easier said than done. Ste clambered back over the bench, and sat on it sideways, his body twisted towards the back uncomfortably. He moved wordlessly, and when he was settled looked back over his shoulder expectantly at Brendan.

Brendan nodded, and sat down, choosing a closer chair this time, but still far enough away that Ste didn't believe he was about to die in the next few seconds. Then he began to talk, with a huge amount of difficulty.

"You're something else, you, aren't ye?" he said, voice so quiet, Ste had to be completely silent to hear, "Other boys, they weren't like you. I couldn't have cared less which one I was with. I only had one at a time because it was easier to keep one quiet, but then when they got too close, that was it, they were out, and I never looked back. But you, you've wormed your way in there. I can't get ye out."

Ste nodded. He knew exactly what Brendan meant. Ste had called it love, but Brendan couldn't. And maybe Brendan was right. Maybe Brendan couldn't love.

"My mother would have called someone like you a witch, ye know," Brendan continued, "Making men do stupid things, think with their dicks."

"Are you blaming me for what you've done?" gasped Ste, angry despite his fear.

"No, just… no," hissed Brendan. "Just … shut up and listen!"

Ste rolled his eyes, but accepted the order. Brendan took another huge sigh, as though uncertain where to go from there.

"I've got a temper," he said eventually. "I get angry, I know. And what happened when Declan found out, I just… saw red."

"I know," said Ste, "but you stopped before you did anything then. And I understood. But then… in here, the other day…"

Ste could hardly think of it without the fear and tears returning.

"I know," said Brendan, "it was…" but Brendan couldn't seem to bring himself to say what it was.

"Why did you do it?" Ste prompted, "what did I do?"

"You did nothing!" Brendan cried, "you didn't do anything wrong!"

"Then why?!" Ste shouted, miserably, "Why did you…" he couldn't finish, but Brendan knew what he meant. He continued in a slow, hesitant voice.

"Everything we've done together… every time we've fucked… every time we've laid in bed together, it's been like a gift, you know? It's made me even wonder why everyone says it's so wrong… because how can something so wrong feel so much like heaven, you know? … But every time, I've been in control of it… I've held you and put you where I wanted you and taken you as I wanted to, and fucked you when and where and how I've wanted to. And every look you've given me, every cry, every moan you made, you wanted it just like that." Brendan gave him a half smile, "You did, didn't you? You liked it?"

Ste nodded. Of course he liked it. He loved it. Every moment of it.

"Good," said Brendan, "I thought you must." He shifted in his chair. "But then, the other night, it wasn't enough for you. You wanted to be in control, to make the decisions," Brendan smiled, "I didn't mind at first. I knew that it could only work because I let you, if I wanted to I could throw you over, hold you down, fuck you 'til you screamed. I asked you to ride it, do you remember? The joy and lust on your face was enough to send me over the edge, I knew, and I didn't care about the rest. But then you changed the plan. You wanted to… to fuck me."

Ste breathed in and out. So far he remembered the same. He had taken control, even knowing Brendan's strength would always mean he could have his own way. But he still didn't understand why that had made Brendan behave that way. "I wanted to make you feel how I felt," said Ste, "how amazing it feels to have you inside me."

Brendan nodded once. But didn't smile, "It wouldn't feel like that for me," he said.

"Why?" asked Ste without thinking, "have you done it before?"

Brendan nodded again, but didn't speak. Ste couldn't help but be curious.

"Who with?"

Brendan's face crumbled, like the man was falling apart in front of him.

"Someone you loved?" asked Ste, his imagination trying to work its way around what might have happened there.

Brendan grunted. It wasn't a yes or a no.

"Was it Vinnie?" asked Ste, trying to piece together the mysteries.

Brendan looked surprised at the mention, "No," he stated, simply.

Ste frowned at him, "I don't understand," he said, pleading with his eyes that Brendan might help him to understand.

Brendan took a deep breath. "And this is ridiculous. I'm trusting you, you who I've known how long? This is not something real men talk about; this is not something I can tell you."

"Well, you're gonna have to, Brendan," Ste pushed, "because I am gone the second I can, right? Either you kill me, or I run or you tell me, that's all that can happen now."

"I could never kill ye," Brendan whispered, urgently, "I could never… I could never let anyone hurt you, I'd rather kill a hundred people than let you be hurt."

Ste bit his lip. He wanted Brendan to open up. Telling him he'd hurt him more than anyone else in the world was not going to do that.

Brendan took another deep breath.

"I was eight," he said, gruffly, "younger than Padraig is now."

Ste listened, silently, now completely lost.

"How old's your little girl? Six? Seven?"

"Six," confirmed Ste.

"Six," Brendan repeated. "I remember being six. I was scared of him, but… everyone was. The cane for anything, the belt for less. But when I was eight…"

Brendan sniffed, and stroked down his moustache. "The only man who's ever … done that to me, he never gave me a choice."

Ste was too surprised to speak. Too upset to offer any comfort or anything. He stared at Brendan like he was seeing a new creature, something impossible.

"I was eight years old, and he… he came up to where I was sleeping. He'd insisted I got my own room. I was so pleased, so proud, because I thought it was because he thought I was a man now. He didn't." Brendan shifted in his seat, no longer looking at Ste, instead seeing some past that should be long forgotten but haunted him to this day, "I thought he was just drunk. There were two sorts of drunk for him; funny drunk and angry drunk. Funny drunk was great, when he'd had one or two, and he would play with us, and I thought that was why he was there. He wanted to play a game. And when he got in my bed, I still wasn't worried. I'd shared with him and Ma a thousand times. Then he got on top of me, and I didn't know what he was doing, and he… he held me down…"

There were tears in Brendan's eyes, and Ste realised there were more in his own.

"And it kept happening. Again and again and again. Not every night, just… once a week or a month maybe. I couldn't understand it. Why me? Why did he hurt me? He didn't do the same to Cheryl, I was certain. She was so… happy. Why me and not her?"

Brendan shook his head, and rubbed the tears from his cheeks, "But that's… that's not…." He stood up, and pulled a flick knife from his pocket. Ste flinched, but Brendan used it on the rope that tied his hands to the chair. He left them tied together, though. Ste couldn't be sure why, but escape was the last thing on his mind now, anyway. He sat straight on the bench, and let Brendan sit down beside him. "I don't want you to run," whispered Brendan. "I can't imagine being without you now."

Ste's mind whirred like an out of control steam engine. So Brendan wasn't made by the devil, he wasn't evil, he'd been broken. But did what Brendan was saying make everything OK? Was his reaction acceptable now? Of course it wasn't. But Ste could understand it a bit better. But maybe it meant he could be fixed.

"I'm not gonna run," he said, before he even knew that was what his decision was going to be. "But you already promised you wouldn't hurt me and broke it… I'd die to stop that happening to you, but…"

Brendan nodded, "I know, I know, I…" He breathed, shakily, loudly. "If I show you I trust ye, if I …" He was battling his own emotions, trying to get out some new promise, something to persuade Ste to let him try again. Ste didn't know if he wanted to hear it. "I thought…" Brendan breathed, "if you let me keep that on you," he put a hand on the rope round Ste's wrists, "I'd try to… let you…"

And suddenly Ste knew what Brendan was offering him. He was trying to show Ste that he trusted him completely, that he would let him do what no man had done without damaging Brendan to the core, because he needed Ste and knew he wouldn't hurt him, even if he needed Ste bound to even consider it. But Brendan didn't want it, he wasn't ready for it. And Ste had no desire to do anything that would not send Brendan as wild with need as Brendan sent him.

"No," he said, "I don't need to." He took Brendan's hand lightly in his bound hands.

He was ready to explain that he couldn't keep on like this; that every time Brendan hurt him was like a new tear in his soul, that they had to stop now. But Brendan stared at him, like he couldn't believe he was there, like he was the only light in the black pit of hell he called a life, so Ste gave him a gentle smile. Then he brought Brendan's hand to his lips, where he kissed it. He twisted on the bench until he was facing Brendan, and kissed him properly but gently, on the lips. Brendan kissed him back, eyes closed, savouring every moment. He put one hand on Ste's waist, gently, not pushing or controlling, just touching for the sake of closeness. After a few moments Brendan pulled back, "I trust you," he whispered.

"I know," Ste replied, putting his bound arms around Brendan's neck, and crept closer until he could sit in older man's lap, one leg on each side of Brendan's. Brendan helped him with a steadying hand on his hip.

"Are you sure?" Brendan whispered.

Ste smiled. "Are you?" he asked, worried.

"I will always want you," Brendan replied with certainty, and Ste lifted his hands back over Brendan's head to struggle with the buttons on Brendan's shirt. He was going to get Brendan naked this time, even if it was bloody difficult with his hands tied together.

Part of him was not at all certain this was a good idea. Another part couldn't care less.

Brendan helped him get the shirt open and off his shoulders, then started on Ste's, making a swifter job while Ste aimed for Brendan's trousers. Realising he couldn't get Ste's shirt off with his hands bound, and not wanting to take time to do anything about that, Brendan gave up and started on Ste's trousers. He pulled them down along with his underwear, and Ste stood down long enough to get them off, and pull Brendan's the same way. Brendan helped by raising his hips to get the rest of the clothes out of the way. Then Ste got back on his lap and kissed him again.

His bound hands pressed against Brendan's hard, strong chest, the hair soft against his skin, his hardening cock pressed against the firm, flat stomach. He planted his feet on the bench, and put his arms around Brendan's shoulders so he could raise himself, legs spread as wide as possible, and rub his arse against Brendan's very interested cock. Brendan groaned at the contact.

"Prepare me," Ste groaned, "slowly."

Brendan's eyes never left Ste's face as he wet his fingers and slipped them, slowly, into Ste's arse. First one, then a second which he used like scissors, to pull and stretch the hole, and then a third. Ste kept staring at Brendan in return, revelling in the new sensations. This wasn't frenzied or mad like their other encounters, it couldn't have been with Brendan's words so fresh in both their minds, but it was incredible in its intensity, its need, its love. Ste still wasn't going to say it, though. He was learning Brendan's weak spots, the things that made him lose it, and he was learning. He could learn them all, could avoid them all, and they'd never have to stop.

And Brendan needed this; Ste could see it in his eyes. He'd expected Ste to run or laugh or humiliate him, to leave him broken, to confirm his own view that what had happened to him and stopped him being a man, and had turned him into a monster. But Ste knew now that, while Brendan was quite probably mad, he wasn't a monster, and Ste needed to show him that. And right now, if he didn't get Brendan's cock in him he would lose his mind.

"Stop," Ste ordered, and Brendan obeyed instantly. "Pull them out, and stroke yourself, make yourself ready." Again, Brendan didn't hesitate. His hands fell straight to his own cock, and Ste watched him make sure it was ready. It didn't need much preparation.

"I'm going to lower myself onto it, ok?" Ste whispered, "Support my hips, but I'm choosing the speed."

And incredibly, Brendan did just that, supporting Ste (though his hands more on arse than hips) and letting Ste slide down and fill himself as he wanted. It took an age, and a massive amount of self control, for Ste to get all the way down, so his arse cheeks were resting flush against Brendan's groin. He rested there, and breathed, clinging to Brendan's shoulders with his arms, letting neither himself nor Brendan look away even for a moment. Brendan's eyes were wide, the sadness, which made more sense to Ste now, diminished and replaced with a light Ste could allow himself to mistake for love. "You're amazing," Brendan whispered.

Ste smiled and pulled them closer together to join their lips once more. He couldn't reply – he couldn't say what he wanted to say, and repeating Brendan seemed somehow childish, so instead, he put all he felt into the kiss. There seemed no way they could possibly get closer, but somehow Ste still wanted to. He did the next best thing; he started moving his hips, using his feet to push himself up and let himself slide down again. Still Brendan supported him, but didn't move him. He let Ste set the pace, let Ste use him however Ste wanted to, and it didn't take long for Ste to get frantic, the speed to rise, for Ste's up and down movements to become more like squirms, every movement hitting his sweet spot inside. Brendan's grip became tighter, their breathing gasps. Ste felt his orgasm build up and up and up, and if Brendan's hooded lids were anything to go by, he wasn't far away either. Ste came in a sudden rush, feeling pulsations through his body. He gasped Brendan's name as he came, bring their heads together, leaning his forehead against Brendan's. He felt Brendan spill within him with a muffled cry that overlapped with his own.

Once Ste had stilled, they kept close and still for some time, Brendan's cock still within him, arms still wrapped around each other, just breathing in each other's presence.

Ste was the first to recover, and he looked closely into Brendan's face. "You alright?" he asked, still breathless.

"On top of the world," breathed Brendan, his hands stroking Ste's bare arse. "Are you?"

"Yeah, great," said Ste. He felt boneless. He couldn't even lift his hands up so Brendan could untie him. He let his head fall to rest on Brendan's shoulder, and Brendan arms wrap more firmly around him. "Except for one thing, though," he added.

"What's that?" asked Brendan, worry in his voice.

"In a few minutes," said Ste, "I might be able to move again. And then I am definitely going to murder Simon Walker."

Brendan only laughed and held him tighter.

**AN: What do you think? ...**


	40. Chapter 40

**AN: Thanks for all the wonderful people who took time to review! It really means a lot, and I hope I can live up to the expectations!**

It felt sad to know that they were going to have to untangle themselves from each other eventually. Their world could be great when they were alone together, with no other people to mess it up. Not that both of them didn't know they were just as good at destroying what they had as anyone.

They stayed as close as they could for as long as they coul, only making the slightest changes for comfort. Brendan untied Ste's hands, kissing every spot the rope had touched with true reverence, and Ste grabbed a handkerchief from Brendan's pocket to wipe them both up, but he got straight back onto Brendan's lap and threw the cloth haphazardly over his shoulder when he was done.

"Can we just stop up here for the day?" Ste asked, as he traced Brendan's magnificent chest with a finger.

"That sounds fun," said Brendan. "I could tell them all to fuck off for the day. I think Walker'll figure it out, though."

"I'm pretty sure Simon already knows," said Ste, "and I think you wanted it that way." Then Ste smacked him lightly on the chest. "Did you threaten to cut his balls off for talking to me?"

Brendan grunted, "Well I think I can safely say the threat didn't work."

"'Ere, you can't decide who I can talk to!" Ste cried.

"He fancies you, though!" Brendan protested.

"He does not!" Ste cried, "I told ye, he ain't like us. And you better leave 'is balls alone."

Brendan screwed up his face, "How am I supposed to be threatening if you don't let me carry out my threats?!"

"You're not supposed to be threatening at all!" said Ste.

"Course I am!" said Brendan, "I'm Brendan Brady."

Ste laughed. "You ain't fooling me no more," he said, "Brendan Brady." He kissed him on the cheek.

"Oh, yeah?" said Brendan darkly, "What if I threaten to throw you down onto that table, and fuck ye til ye scream, that threatening?"

Ste flushed and grinned, "No. That's promising," he teased.

Brendan smirked, and smacked him on the arse. "Maybe later, I'm fucking exhausted right now."

Ste put his head back on Brendan's chest with a smile. "Yeah, me too," he said, with a sigh of contentment. He ran a hand lazily over Brendan's shoulders, and felt Brendan gently squeeze his arse.

They felt no need to move or speak again, but the spell had to be broken eventually, and it was poor Simon who had to do it.

He knocked on the door so gently Ste wondered if it was in his head. "Boss?" he called through the wood, unsurprisingly not daring to come in.

Brendan growled, "This better be important, Walker."

"Sorry to … interrupt," said Simon, and this time Ste thought he heard a smirk in his voice, "but your sister's looking for you. Thought you might appreciate a heads up."

Ste and Brendan let out sad sighs. When Brendan made no move, Ste called "Thanks Simon."

"No worries," he heard Simon call through the door, but no footsteps descending followed, though as they had heard none coming up, it didn't worry them.

"I'm sorry," said Brendan, sadly, "we have to get up."

"I know," Ste replied, with equal sadness, "but it's not like it'll be the last time."

Brendan's hand ran over his arse giving it an extra playful squeeze. "Too right."

They kissed again, and then again as they stood, and watched each other pull their clothes on. When they were both decent, and Brendan had tucked Ste's shirt in, and Ste smoothed Brendan's hair, they kissed again, almost undoing both those things. But they knew their time right now was limited.

"You go first," instructed Brendan. "I'll come down in a bit, just in case Cheryl comes looking up here for me."

"OK," said Ste, and with one more kiss, finally left the Greek room, though with a stupid grin he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to lose.

"So, he back in your good books then?" asked Simon from his seated position at the top of the stairs.

"Maybe," said Ste, trying to hide the grin.

"But, more importantly, will I get to keep my balls if I get within ten feet of him?" Simon asked, with a grin.

"Probably," replied Ste. Then remembered he'd promised to kill Simon. "Oi! You kidnapped me!"

"Don't blame the messenger!"

"What?" Ste cried.

"I was only doing as instructed!"

"Messengers don't kidnap people! I can't believe you kidnapped me!" cried Ste.

Simon's smile was glued to his face, "I made him promise he didn't want to kill ya before I said yes."

"I thought we was mates," said Ste, stupidly.

"'Course," said Simon, "And how many favours do you owe me now? I wouldn't do anything that could let you get out of doing them."

Ste gasped at the cheek of him, but laughed as well. "You are sommat else, you know!"

Simon looked quite proud of himself, "I try. And you forgave him quick enough."

"Yeah, well, he's got hidden depths!" said Ste, working hard to keep the grin out of his voice. "that's more than could be said for you, Judas!"

"I might have hidden depths," said Simon, "you just haven't taken the time to find 'em."

"Yeah, and I ain't gonna, because you kidnap people for money," said Ste, stepping past Simon to get down the stairs.

"Oh, Ste, don't be like that!" crooned Simon, "you might like my hidden depths."

Ste snorted but didn't turn back. He was pretty sure Simon wasn't really flirting, but he didn't need Brendan thinking anything different, not when they'd made such progress. He was surprised to see the almost half full by the time he got to them. He must have been up with Brendan for hours and not even noticed the time passing. He went down to the lower bar and got serving beside Jacqui.

"Here, where've you been?" she demanded the moment she saw him.

"Nowhere," said Ste, sulkily, "was just late, that's all."

"Well, does Brendan know?" Jacqui demanded.

"Yeah," said Ste, with a smile.

"What and didn't he give you a bollocking?" cried Jacqui, putting all her enormous sense of unfairness in her voice and face.

"Yeah, course he did," said Ste, trying not to smile again, or worse, laugh.

Jacqui let out a noise of disgust and disbelief, but didn't push him further. There were simply too many people. It was the busiest Ste had ever seen the place. Every inch of floor space was occupied with people, each drunker than the last. Painted women in magnificent dresses, men in fine suits, and everything more colourful than Ste could possibly imagine.

He spotted Brendan only occasionally that night through the great mass of people. He seemed to have so many different roles. Sometimes he was welcoming, offering warm handshakes and smiles that Ste could have recognised as false from miles away. Sometimes he was playing dutiful brother, looking after Cheryl, playing second fiddle to her show. And sometimes he was threatening, taking control and dealing with troublemakers as easily as other men dealt with rotten food.

Ste had to admire him. He was strong and confident, working the bar like he was king of the world and everything in it. Ste wished he could have half the man's presence. And that fewer people would notice Brendan.

He did notice that it wasn't just him being distracted by Brendan. Brendan was being distracted too. Ste caught his eyes on more than one occasion, and could feel those eyes upon him at lots of moments when he was trying to serve. It felt like he was being guarded by an angel. An angel who was probably going to fuck him later. The thought sent warmth up his body.

Jacqui did not look impressed with him. She scolded him for being slow, for getting in the way, ordered him to stop daydreaming, to get on with it. Ste didn't think he was being that bad. He knew he kept looking at Brendan instead of at the customers, but it wasn't like he was missing parts of orders or taking the wrong money.

The night was pretty successful. The crowd seemed to clear much easier than usual, possibly because Brendan seemed to get them started early. Ste hoped he was as keen to get back as Ste was. The crowds exited, Simon appeared and nudged the last few punters out, Jacqui, Rhys and Ste started clearing away. Brendan caught Ste by the bar, by trapping him with his body the moment Jacqui and Rhys were out of sight.

"I've got a few things I need to say to Walker," he growled, "but I'll be with you before you know it. I want you to go home, go into my bedroom, strip, and get in my bed."

Ste flushed, and checked no one had heard that instruction. It had sent even more butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and his cock had liked the sound of it to. He bit his lip and nodded.

"Good boy," growled Brendan, "and send that cockney bastard up to me if you see him," he added, copping a feel of Ste's arse before he disappeared into the office, just in time to avoid being caught by Jacqui.

"'Ere, you dozey git," Jacqui started, voice like an angry foghorn, "you sort your act out or you'll have me to deal with, whoever your friends are, got it?" Had Ste's head not been full of Brendan related goo, he might have told her where to go. Instead he nodded and drifted past her to the cellar.

Simon was down there with his custom cigarette and signature lack of getting involved in anything resembling cleaning. Ste smiled at him slightly, but said only, "Brendan's looking for you."

Simon's cocky grin faltered. "Oh," he said, in a voice Ste recognised as trying to sound casual, "did he say why?"

"No," said Ste, with a grin, "I don't think he's gonna cut your balls off, though."

Simon smirked, "What makes you think that?"

"Because I asked him not to," said Ste. "But maybe keep at arm's length, just in case."

He dumped the remaining glasses in the sink for washing tomorrow, (he didn't want to delay sex If he could help it) and made his way out into the night air, hardly believing it was only a few hours since he'd gone in. His life had changed with Brendan's words. He had hope that things could work.

He got back to the house to find Amy sat in the kitchen, darning by candlelight. She looked tired, but pleased to see him.

"Alright?" he greeted.

"Ste!" she cried, springing to her feet, a proud grin on her face, "I've done it! I've found us somewhere else to live!"

Ste's smile and warm feeling drooped. Amy spotted it instantly.

"Which you don't want, anymore" she stated, simply, "because you've slept with him again."

"No!" Ste protested, "well, yeah, but… it was more than that!"

"More than that?" she repeated, as though it were a stupid thing to say. "What, is he carrying your baby now?!"

Ste blanched, "Amy…"

"Sorry," she groaned, "I don't… look, I had to walk miles today with two kids asking loads of people if they knew any places where we could live, and you come back and say it was a waste of my time, and why?"

Ste felt the guilt, "Sorry, it's just, we talked and…"

"He talked you into bed again. What did he give you some sob story about his Dad beating him up?"

Amy sounded so bitter, and Ste knew why. She wasn't talking about Brendan. She was talking about Ste. It made Ste angry.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened between us, Amy," he cried, "but this ain't the same! You don't know anything about Brendan and me!"

"Except how yesterday he'd broken your heart!" she hissed, and Ste wasn't sure whether she was trying to show him he was wrong or simply hurt him.

"But we've talked…"

"I would never break your heart, Ste!" hissed Amy, urgently, eyes wide and wet.

Ste felt gobsmacked. Amy had hinted before, but Ste had been avoiding thinking about it. "I will always love you, Amy, and I'll never leave ye."

"Of course you will!" she said, the wetness in her eyes beginning to fall, "you'll go off with him, follow him around moony eyed until he gets bored of you and throws you out. And what'll happen to us while you're with him? Remember us? Your family?"

"I've never stopped thinking about you!" Ste cried, "you have no idea what I went through trying to get help for Lucas!"

"You opened your legs to Brendan Brady, and now you're telling yourself you're in love so you don't have to deal with the fact you're a prostitute!"

Ste's hand was a fist before he even knew it. He grabbed Amy's arm in anger, and it was only her cry of shock and pain that stopped him.

He let go of her like he'd been burnt, with a mumbling "Sorry!" He repeated the word a number of times, but he couldn't handle the feeling of being called that by someone he loved. He had to get out. He ran.

**I love it when people take time to review.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Thanks again for the reviews! I'm quietly going a bit mental. I thought about giving you plot, but decided this was more fun. Hope you enjoy it!**

He threw the door of Brendan's bedroom shut behind him, hoping Amy wouldn't try to talk to him again. He didn't need her following him in here, making things worse.

She was wrong. Completely wrong. He wasn't sleeping with Brendan for money! Brendan didn't think he was a prostitute, either. He'd been furious when he'd thought Ste had sold himself.

But maybe it wasn't the selling that had made him angry back then, maybe it was the idea he'd sold himself to someone else? Just jealousy.

He sat on the bed in the darkness, legs folded, listening for the sounds of people on the stairs. He didn't hear Amy going to bed, but after what felt like an age the front door opened and closed. He heard Brendan's steps climbing the stairs. He watched the door, expectantly, and saw Brendan walk in with admirable strength and presence.

"Well, you're not as naked as I was hoping," said Brendan by way of greeting.

"Sorry," said Ste.

"What's wrong?" Brendan asked with a frown.

"Nothing," said Ste.

"You know, part of me is horny enough just to accept that," said Brendan, "but I have a history of winning every time you try to hide something from me, so you wanna skip to the bit where you tell me what's on your mind?"

Ste smiled sadly. If Brendan could tell him his deepest secrets, Ste could talk about this. "Do you think you're paying for me?"

"What?" said Brendan.

"You don't think I'm a prostitute, do ye?" Ste asked again.

"Seriously?" said Brendan, "we're back there again?"

"It's just something Amy said," said Ste, defensively.

"Amy? Oh, her," said Brendan, dismissively. "Well, what does she know?"

Ste frowned, "She's the mother of me kids!"

"Steven, do you think I'd have told you what I told you today if I thought you spread your legs for the highest bidder?" Brendan's expression was calm and serious.

"No," whispered Ste.

"Well, then, I don't think you're a prostitute," replied Brendan, "Now, are you done with the girly talking? Because I was hoping to do some fucking tonight."

"So was I," said Ste, honestly. Fucking still sounded good, and Brendan was right. That was all in Amy's head. They were great. Better than great. Better than they'd ever been.

"Good," said Brendan, "I was actually planning on making you scream."

"Er," said Ste, "me kids are upstairs!"

"Hmm," said Brendan with a frown, "are they asleep?"

Ste bit a lip, "Probably."

"Well then," said Brendan, and pulled Ste up off the bed to kiss him thoroughly on the mouth. He gave Ste just enough time to really enjoy it before he pushed him back gently and sat on the bed himself. "Now, I believe I asked you to strip."

Ste bit his lip again. "I think," he said, slowly, trying to sound seductive, "that there is never enough of you naked."

"Don't worry, we'll get to me," said Brendan, "but right now I'm going to be in control for a bit. That sound good to you?"

Ste nodded. He could understand that. Brendan had made some huge steps today, and Ste was more than willing to give him what he needed. He was actively looking forward to it.

"Good," said Brendan, and leant back on his hands. "You're still wearing far too many clothes. Get them off, before I rip them off."

Ste obliged, but decided teasing was the way to go. He undid his buttons slowly, letting Brendan appreciate each piece of flesh he revealed, and then ran his hand down his chest to open the shirt. He pulled off the garment with no sense of haste, even though every muscle in his body wanted to jump onto Brendan and paw at him like a wild animal. Then he opened his fly, one button at a time, giving Brendan a smirk between each one. When the fly was open, he didn't pull his trousers all the way down. Instead he slipped his hand down the front, and touched himself, groaning loudly, mostly for Brendan's benefit, though partly because he was already incredibly turned on.

Brendan let out a smaller answering groan, but followed it with a growl.

"You sure you wanna be playing that game right now, Steven? Seeing who's got more self control?"

Ste thought about it. Right now, he would probably lose. He took his shoes, trousers, socks and underwear off, then stood, looking at Brendan.

Brendan had already slipped off his shoes and socks, and when Ste was stood waiting, he tugged some buttons open on his shirt, then pulled the whole thing over his head, revealing the broad chest that made Ste's mouth water. The muscles under his skin were a type of perfection, and his whole torso wore a glorious spattering of dark hair that made Ste want to lick his lips.

"So, you enjoy teasing, do you?" growled Brendan, standing and revelling in his height advantage over Ste.

Ste realised this was not a question he was expected to answer.

"You know what happens to boys who tease?" Brendan continued in his sexy growl, taking strong, confident, unhurried steps towards Ste.

Ste shook his head and bit his lip. Brendan smirked.

"I think it might be fun finding out though," Ste whispered, taking a few steps back, and running a finger up his own chest, up his neck and to his lips. His tongue darted out and wet the end. Then he put it in his mouth.

Brendan pounced, knocking him off his feet, and he felt his back hit the wall with enough force to leave a bruise. Ste couldn't have cared less. He threw his arms around Brendan's back and accepted the domineering kiss Brendan gave him. He felt his now painfully hard cock rub against the material of Brendan's trousers, and gasped.

When Brendan pulled away, they were both breathless.

"For that, we're changing position," growled Brendan.

He took Ste's arms from around his shoulders and forced him to face the wall. Ste smirked. It was hardly a punishment. He pushed his arse back against Brendan, eliciting a groan from the older man, and earning said arse a smack.

He gasped a laugh, as Brendan caught his arms again and pushed them against the wall in front of him.

"You'll need them for support," he growled in Ste's ear, "keep them there."

Ste breathed heavily, trying to keep himself under control, "That didn't work last time."

"Then I'll have to spank ye again," said Brendan, lips ghosting over Ste's ear, his hands sliding over Ste's shoulders, gently caressing his skin. Ste shivered, and tried to do as instructed. Brendan's hands dropped lower and lower, down his sides, slipping forward to graze his cock then finally grasping his hips.

Ste tried to look over his shoulder at the movements behind him, but got a second slap for his efforts. The slaps were far from punishing, and instead sent a thrill of excitement up Ste's spine. Then he felt something warm and wet make a trail down his back. He gasped when he realised what it was; Brendan's tongue.

Its journey was slow and torturous. Ste had never felt anything like it before, but he felt like his brain was going to explode with just the idea of what Brendan might be planning. Ste's skin tingled wherever it went, and he shivered at the feelings.

Then Brendan's tongue reached Ste's arse, which should have been disgusting, yet somehow was incredible. It skirted the edges of his hole, making him gasp and squirm. He needed his hands on the wall then to hold him upright. Brendan spanked him again. "Keep still!" he ordered in a growl, before returning the hand to grasp Ste's hip, and his tongue to assault Ste's arse.

Ste tried to follow the order, but his knees felt weak. His head flopped down and he had to rest his forehead against the wall. He gasped and moaned, and was worried he would come from this alone.

Just as he thought he was ready to collapse or explode, Brendan spun him around again, catching him against the wall. Ste grasped Brendan's shoulders. "God, please, fuck me," he begged, desperately.

Brendan smirked, "You sure?" he breathed, hands on Ste's hips drifting slowly forward.

"Please!" Ste begged, too desperate even to let Brendan's teasing annoy him.

Brendan shoved Ste harder against the wall, and pushed him up and up until his feet were off the ground. Ste wrapped his legs around Brendan's waist and grabbed his shoulders and the picture rail above his head just in time for Brendan to enter him with one thrust.

They both gasped at the sensation, Ste clinging desperately to Brendan and Brendan holding him up by a bruising grip on his thighs. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" gasped Ste, following it with a mumble of incoherent pleads to get Brendan to move.

"Who do you belong to?" growled Brendan, shifting just enough to make Ste whimper without giving him anywhere near as much movement as he needed.

"You!" gasped Ste, "you! You, you, you. Please! God, please!"

Brendan found his mouth with his own, and kissed him with passion, then started the movement Ste needed. Ste cried out in desperation, tightening his legs, leaning back against the wall. Brendan was still pretending to have control over himself, but Ste recognised the tell-tale signs that he was at least as aroused as Steven. He was breathing heavily, low growling sounds escaping his throat. His strokes were growing far from controlled, they were desperate and passionate, and it wasn't long before he gave up on the wall. He grabbed Ste even closer and threw them both onto the rug, somehow keeping his manhood inside Ste. Ste knew he had bruises now as he grabbed onto Brendan's back once again. The move shouldn't have been possible, but it was incredible: Brendan's strokes were more thorough now, filling him every time, hitting those nerve endings every time, sending waves of incredible pleasure up his spine every time.

"Brendan!" Ste cried, "Bren, I'm gonna…"

He shouted wordlessly as he came, indescribably hard, gripping Brendan even harder and hoping he could give the older man some bruises to match his. He clenched down on Brendan's cock, and heard Brendan's answering cry of ecstasy, as he too released his orgasm. As Ste's waves of pleasure washed over him, he wasn't even able to think, and he felt Brendan collapse on top of him. He held on to the man as though that could help them keep hold of the feeling. He couldn't hold on to it though. The room came back, the memory that Amy and his children were somewhere in the house, and the fear that any of them had overheard what had just happened was very real. And the floor began to feel hard against his back.

"The bed's just there," he pointed out.

"Beds are overrated," Brendan whispered.

"Yeah, and if I can't walk in the morning because I'm too bruised, it'll be all your fault."

Brendan lifted his head. "You alright?"

Ste grinned, "On top of the world. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Brendan smirked, "You don't need to walk anyway. I think I'm just gonna keep you in my bed from now on. This is just too irresistible."

"It would only be fun if you stayed with me," Ste replied.

Brendan smiled and kissed him, gently but thoroughly. Ste loved being kissed by Brendan. It was completely different to being fucked and almost as wonderful. He lay back and ran his fingers lazily through Brendan's hair, as talented lips and tongue made him feel like he really should never leave this room.

Brendan pulled away to say "Fancy continuing this on the bed?"

Ste nodded and smiled, and watched Brendan get up, gasping when he saw the red splotches on the older man's back. Finger shaped bruises that Ste must have put there. Brendan turned back and smirked at him. "Impressed with your handiwork?"

"Oh my God," Ste whispered, "does it hurt?"

Brendan shrugged, "Only in a good way. You coming?"

He held a hand out to Ste, who used it to get up. Brendan got into bed and Ste followed, lying half on top of him, tangling their legs as Brendan threw the covers over them. "Do you hurt?" Brendan whispered, stroking Ste's back, from neck to arse.

Most definitely, was the answer, but he kind of liked it. It made him feel satisfied, like they were marks of a great thing. "Only in a good way," he whispered, and kissed Brendan once more before settling his head onto Brendan's shoulder, ready to sleep.

Brendan sighed contentedly beside him. "Sunday tomorrow. You can have the day off."

That would be nice. "You want to do something?" Ste asked, imagining getting to spend the whole day with Brendan, wondering how long they could spend together without having sex.

"No, I've got to work," said Brendan, quietly, "but you can spend it with your family, yeah?"

"Ok," agreed Ste, not really disappointed, he'd been neglecting the kids lately, "you want me to pop in, though? Keep you company." He put a hand on Brendan's hip to suggest what sort of 'company' he meant.

Brendan put a hand over Ste's. "That sounds nice, but not tomorrow. It's not that sort of work."

"What sort of work is it, then?" asked Ste, curiously and suspiciously.

"The sort I want to keep _you_ a thousand miles and safely away from," Brendan whispered.

"Why?" Ste asked.

Brendan didn't reply. He leant his head forward and kissed Ste gently on the forehead. "Just, promise me you'll stay away tomorrow?"

Ste frowned, uncertain he wanted to promise any such thing. "But why though?" he asked again.

Brendan sighed, "Am I not allowed any secrets?"

"No," replied Ste.

"Alright," said Brendan, resignedly, "It's the other sort of job. Dodgy. I don't want you anywhere near, OK?"

Ste didn't like the sound of that. "Is it dangerous?" he asked, taking his hand off Brendan to grasp his hand for comfort.

"Shouldn't be," said Brendan, "Just a couple of idiots who need a lesson."

"Are you going to hurt them?" asked Ste, worriedly.

"No," said Brendan, "just take some stuff that wasn't theirs in the first place."

"Just you?" Ste asked, not at all happy about any of this.

"No, a couple of guys. Don't worry, it'll be fine."

Ste felt like sulking. He ran a hand over Brendan's hip. "If you get killed, I'll never sleep with you again."

Brendan smiled, "I promise not to get killed."

Ste stuck his lip out, "Or arrested."

Brendan seemed to take that as a challenge and nipped at the protruding lip. "I won't do that, either."

"You better not," stropped Ste.

Brendan kept nibbling on the lip until Ste had to pull it in or kiss him. He went for kissing, which lasted a glorious long time before they settled back in to sleep.


	42. Chapter 42

**AN Thanks again for reviews. **

**Just a note on the dialogue – I've had a couple of comments on the language being inaccurate for the time period. I am aware of this, and I did make the decision consciously, based on a few factors. 1) I am writing for a modern audience, who a) do not wish to have to work hard to understand the story they are reading for fun and b) want to 'live' the story with the characters on an emotional level that an extra barrier of language would prevent (both of these points would also go for my own appreciation of writing it too) 2) I simply don't have time to research the working class language of 19****th**** Century Ireland, Liverpool and Cheshire as I work full time. 3) I don't believe it is possible to accurately represent the language used by working class people in the 19****th**** century. Films were silent, and literature was the preserve of the wealthy, so even working class characters were created by the educated class. **

**I am sorry if the use of modern language is spoiling your enjoyment, but anything else would definitely spoil mine, and as I'm the one doing the writing, what I want is what we get. I have no intention of changing it, now or ever. **

**I hope that people who were enjoying the story before this Author's Note will continue to enjoy it. And that anyone else can forgive me.**

Ste's sleep was fitful. His dreams were many and varied, with only Brendan as a common theme. Brendan being hurt, Brendan being dragged off by police, Brendan being hanged.

Each time he awoke, he reminded himself Brendan had done nothing that warranted hanging. He hoped. Ste had, Ste had killed a man, and yet somehow didn't feel the crippling guilt he knew he should. Brendan was probably only a thief. And hopefully a good enough one that he would get away with this.

Ste woke and slept and woke and slept, each time checking Brendan was still beside him, and trying to wriggle closer to the warm and beautiful body, until eventually he woke up and Brendan wasn't there. Ste wondered how he'd managed to get out of his grip without waking Ste up. He hoped it boded well for this job, if Brendan could get around silently, unnoticed even by people who were trying to watch him. He rolled onto his back, and felt the bruises Brendan had left on his back from the incredible sex last night. He relaxed onto them, feeling the ache and appreciating it, reminding himself that it wasn't a dream, and that soon it should happen again.

He wondered if he was going to get through the day without worrying about Brendan.

Giggling on the stairs told him Leah and Lucas were up. He stumbled out of bed and groped around for his clothes, pulling them on hastily. He listened, waiting for them to move on, up or down the stairs he didn't mind. They didn't. Ste thought they were playing on the landing. He cursed silently. Surely they were too young to understand the significance of him coming out of Brendan's room? Besides, he could pretend he'd been tidying in there. They might not even know that it was Brendan's room. He took a deep breath and stepped out.

Leah was playing with a box on the stairs. Lucas, presumably, had been trying to keep up. Both were dressed in their night clothes, and looked up when the door opened. "Daddy!" cried Leah, and dropped the box to give him a hug.

"Hello, gorgeous!" he greeted, scooping her up, then sitting down as the bruises made themselves known again. Lucas crept into his lap. "Alright, little man?" Ste said.

Leah nodded, "Where's Mummy?" she asked.

"What?" asked Ste, "did you leave her upstairs?"

"She wasn't there when I woke up," said Leah, factually.

He looked at Lucas, but the little boy just shook his head. Ste tried very hard not to panic. What if she had run away? He wouldn't blame her; he had nearly hit her yesterday. She shouldn't have to be scared of that. He put Leah and Lucas down on the landing and ran upstairs, praying Amy had just slept in the other bedroom.

"Amy?" he called, loudly. "Amy?"

The bed didn't look slept in. He swore lightly and jogged back down. He didn't try many of the rooms. He didn't think she would have slept in one of the Brady bedrooms. He ran down to the kitchen. Still there was no sign of her. What if she'd run off in the night and he would never find her again? "Amy!" he shouted again.

"What?" said a tired voice just outside the back door.

"Oh, God," gasped Ste, grabbing her to pull her back into the house. She flinched away. "You're OK," Ste added.

"Course," said Amy, with a glare that clearly meant 'No thanks to you'.

"Where have you been?" Ste demanded, "The kids said you weren't with 'em last night."

"I couldn't sleep," said Amy, sadly, "there were these banging noises and some pathetic begging that put me off."

Ste coloured, very ashamed of himself. It was just like him to follow up his evilness with some carelessness. "I'm sorry," he said, honestly.

"But you're not gonna stop, though," she said, a statement of fact.

Ste wanted to promise he would, but it wouldn't be true. He avoided the question, and any further discussion.

"Er, Brendan's given us the day off today," he said instead.

"Oh, that's nice," Amy replied, sarcastically.

"So," Ste tried, "we could… do something? Go to the park? Or something?"

Amy looked at him levelly. "We'll go to church."

Ste's eyes widened. "Church?"

They hadn't been to church since they reached the city. It had been the weekly norm in the village. When Ste was a child, his mother had dragged him every Sunday to listen to the preaching, and he'd first spotted Amy amongst the pews while daydreaming. But it had also been the place he'd first learned all the many reasons he was going to hell. He hadn't minded when they'd forgotten to find a church to attend in Liverpool.

But it hadn't been purposeful. He couldn't really refuse. "If you want," Ste replied.

"Yes, I do," said Amy. "The children need to learn what good morals are from somewhere."

Ste flinched again, but he knew he deserved it. However much she had upset him last night, there was no excuse for what he nearly did. He nodded his head and looked at the table. Amy looked triumphant and stormed past him, presumably up to get the kids ready for church.

Church! Bloody church! Over an hour being told he was going to hell. If not for what he was doing with Brendan, than for not marrying Amy, and having children outside of marriage, and stealing the money from Terry or trying to steal for Lucas or agreeing to sleep with Sir Alexander for money (on two counts,) or for letting the man fall down the stairs, or for lying, or for trying to persuade his Mum to run away from Terry.

There was so much wrong that he had done, there was very little he could do to stop himself going to hell.

He did want to keep the kids away from all that. It seemed unfair to drag them somewhere that was going to teach them the decisions their father had to make to keep his family alive would put him in hell. Not that they knew about most of those decisions. And he still hoped to keep it that way.

He grabbed some food and scoffed it down; church would be completely unbearable if he was hungry too, and then went upstairs to make himself look presentable. Amy was dressing the children in their best clothes, which were still pretty shabby, and clearly too small for them as they were quite old, but Ste didn't comment. He had to do as Amy wished in this. He'd upset her too much already.

They marched to church, taking turns to carry Lucas. They chose the nearest, and sat at the back of a large congregation. As they took their seats, trying to bribe Leah and Lucas into silence with whispers promising parks and ducks, an elderly vicar stood to begin the ceremony, and Amy whispered, "What do you think he would say about you and Brendan?"

Ste felt his heart twist, and looked around hoping no one had heard. Thankfully the vicar never mentioned men sleeping with men, and gave a lengthy sermon on something Ste had no understanding of. He doubted Amy fared better if her glassy expression was anything to go by, and Leah and Lucas were swinging their legs with pure boredom on their faces.

Ste's attention wondered, as it always had while in church, and he started daydreaming. He worried about Brendan, wondering what he was doing now. He wondered if Simon was with him. They had met to discuss something last night, so it seemed likely. Surely Simon would keep an eye out for Brendan. He was loyal. If anything he was too loyal. If he would kidnap someone on Brendan's instructions, he would make sure Brendan didn't die.

Ste leant back only to shoot up straight again when his bruises reminded him he had to. Amy noticed and gave him a look that clearly said she had her own idea where those sorts of bruises came from. Ste decided that as he was already going to hell, he may as well enjoy the journey, and ignored the vicar and everybody else around him and remembered each and every move he and Brendan had made last night.

He hoped his smile wasn't too un-churchlike.

It wasn't much later that Amy shook his arm and told him to get a move on. The church was already emptying fast. Ste jumped up and grabbed a kid in each hand. "Right, let's go to the park yeah?" he said before Amy could suggest discussing men sleeping with men with the vicar.

The kids both woke up at that, with excited 'yeah's, and Amy, accepting that she was going to have to go along or face miserable children, nodded her agreement, and turned to leave.

"Miss Barnes!" called a voice from slightly down the aisle. A few people turned to look, surprised at the slightly too loud voice, and Amy coloured slightly, aware that being called Miss while in a church with her two children would get her the same superior looks here as it had won her in the village. Now it was Ste's turn to give her a slightly reproachful glance as well. They had lied to the Bradys, and if Amy was introducing herself to locals as Miss Barnes, it wouldn't take long to get back to their employers. Ste was pretty sure Brendan wouldn't care less, but Eileen was a different story.

"Miss Barnes," the voice called again, and Ste held the kids back a moment as a short freckly man with a round face nearly knocked an angry looking old woman over in his attempt to get to Amy. Ste was not at all sure what to make of that.

"Mr Hunter," said Amy, with a polite smile but concern and embarrassment too, "what a pleasant surprise."

"Why yes, Miss Barnes," said Mr Hunter, "and I do believe I asked you to call me Lee."

"Yes, and I asked you to call me Amy, rather than shout 'Miss' across a crowded church while I am accompanied by my children."

Amy's voice was acidic, almost as harsh as the one she'd been using on Ste that morning. Lee Hunter, however, didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, right," he said with a laugh, as though he'd forgotten something minor and insignificant rather than really embarrassed someone in front of lots of people, "Where are you off to now then?" he asked with a grin.

"Er," Amy glanced at Ste, who was not at all sure what was going on, "I think we're…"

"Oh!" cried Lee, "who's this then? Some competition?"

"Er," said Amy, and Ste realised what Lee meant.

"I'm the father of her children, mate!" he said, angrily, "who are you?"

"Ste, this is Lee Hunter," said Amy, quickly, "he delivers from the grocers'"

Ste looked between them, flummoxed by Lee's inexplicably still wide eyed, excited puppy dog expression, and Amy's embarrassment that was quickly turning to smug self-satisfaction.

"Actually, Lee," she said with a smile, "we're going to the park, would you like to join us?"

Ste glanced at the children who were still smiling, as if their family day hadn't just been invaded by a stranger.

"Oh, I'd love to!" said Lee, "would Leah like to go on my back?"

Leah cheered. Ste almost grabbed the little girl to pull her out of Lee's reach. Amy didn't seem to have the same reserves though. "Yeah, she loves that, don't you Leah?" she said with undue enthusiasm.

"Great!" said Lee as Leah nodded with enthusiasm.

"Er," protested Ste.

"Lucas will be getting jealous, Steven," said Amy, "you better get him up on yours. Come on."

Lee took Leah onto his back, and because Ste wanted to show him who was really the most important man in all three of these lives, he put Lucas high onto his shoulders. The little boy gripped his forehead, laughing at suddenly being the highest person in the whole church, but Amy had already pretty much marched off, with Lee following closely at her heels, like a dog trying to stay by its master. Ste followed Lee and Amy out, annoyed for reasons he couldn't put his finger on.

What the hell was going on?


	43. Chapter 43

**I could blame the amazing Chips2 for the sheer filth in this chapter, but it was always the plan. (Beware of an angst junkie using too much sex though, and I promise that there is plot in there somewhere!) What I can blame on Chips2 is some last minute back tracks so it doesn't look copied. One thing I couldn't lose, because without it bad plot twists would occur, which I didn't need. Sorry!**

**Enjoy!**

Ste was not impressed at spending a whole afternoon at the park watching another man play with his children and chatting up their mother, particularly when Leah, Lucas and Amy all seemed to be enjoying it so much. It was almost enough to stop him thinking about Brendan. He wondered off in a strop after watching them decide to feed the ducks.

He intended to storm the quickest way back to the Brady's house that he knew, grumbling about bastard grocers, but his disobedient feet carried him nearer the club than he needed, some curiosity over Brendan's activities still permeating his annoyance. He gave in, and went to check the place out. It looked deserted; its windows empty and dark, but Ste knew that could be misleading, so he wandered around the side, quietly, hoping to get a peek of whatever was going on within, without being spotted himself. The back looked the same as the front; the doors looked locked, so he gave up and walked off, back down the alley towards the one of the streets.

His thoughts returned to Lee, the invader of his home, but he was soon interrupted by running feet. He turned to find the source, and saw Brendan and Simon turn into the alley at the far end.

They were both running, out of breath and worried, and the second they turned into the alley, Brendan grabbed Simon by the collar and shoved him angrily against the wall.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Ste heard Brendan shout. Ste stood still, close against the wall trying to watch without being seen.

"What's the matter?" asked Simon, with a breathy laugh, "it worked didn't it?"

"That's the second time you've crossed me…" Brendan growled.

"And both times it worked out, didn't it?!" Simon replied, still not at all bothered by Brendan's looming threatening presence before him. "We would never have got half as much if I hadn't taken matters into my own hands, and your…"

"I'm watching you!" Brendan growled, "If you do anything like that again, any risks…"

"Alright, alright," laughed Simon, "I get it! Look, why don't you go home? You look like you could do with a rest."

Brendan's hand went to Simon's throat, "Don't you ever patronise me, Walker! You will not like me when I'm angry."

"Sorry boss," said Simon, finally stepping down from the brink of a beating in words and attitude, "It won't happen again."

Brendan seemed to consider him a moment longer, "Yeah," he said eventually, "it better not." He let Simon go, and stormed into the club, and Ste decided it was too soon to check if he was alright. He didn't fancy facing Brendan's anger. Instead he made a quick dart out of the alley and home.

…xxx…

Ste was home alone for a while before Amy showed. He filled the time sorting out odd jobs about the house, as he had done in the cottage; the sort of things Amy would have found too heavy. It was pretty brainless stuff, and got him thinking about Amy and Lee, and why that was different to him and Brendan, if it was.

The back door announced his family's arrival home. The kids ran up stairs, clearly still delighted about whatever they'd been up to. Amy was more sedate, closing the door carefully behind her, removing her hat and coat, and sitting opposite Ste at the kitchen table.

"You didn't last long at the park," she said, coldly.

"Well, you seemed to be having a nice time without me," said Ste, letting his anger show.

They sat in silence for a while, looking at each other coldly over the kitchen table, before Ste realised what had happened.

"You're trying to show me what you feel about Brendan," he said, certain he was right.

It was the wrong thing to say. "Oh, yeah, because it's all about you, isn't it?" Amy snapped.

"I didn't mean…"

"It can't be that there's a nice man who actually likes me, or anything!"

"I didn't say he didn't like ya!" cried Ste, "It's bloody obvious he likes ya, likes you so much he doesn't even notice the father of your kids two feet away."

Amy relaxed a bit. "He does like me, doesn't he?"

Ste sighed, "Yes, obviously." He looked into her eyes, "What are you going to do?"

Amy let out a thoughtful noise. "Hmm, maybe I should sleep with him."

Ste found himself strangely unbothered by that, "Well, you can if you want."

Amy glared anew, "What, do I need your permission?"

"No!" said Ste, "that's what I mean…"

"But it'll upset ye?" she prompted.

"No, I mean…" Ste was flummoxed. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be upset! I want you to know what it feels like to watch the person you've lived with for five years going to bed with someone else!"

Ste stared at her. "You're contradicting yourself now!"

"Oh shut up!" she cried, angrily.

They lapsed into silence, Ste still at a loss for what to say. He had to think. What was it that had upset him this afternoon? Why had Amy changed her mind about being OK with Ste sleeping with Brendan? Maybe they were linked.

"Look, I don't mind… I mean…" he struggled to find the right words, "I can't ask you not to sleep with him."

"No," said Amy, "you can't!"

Ste got annoyed again, "But there's a difference."

"What, because Brendan's a man?!" cried Amy.

"Yes!" said Ste, "I'm never gonna leave you for Brendan! I'm never gonna take the kids away from ya! I'm never gonna stop looking after you all!"

Amy looked at him wide eyed. "Aren't you?"

"No!" cried Ste. "You're my family!"

Amy looked ready to cry.

"Is that what's made you so upset?" he asked, with surprise.

Amy looked uncertain. "I think you love him," she said, "love him like you were meant to love me." A tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Ste couldn't answer her. "Amy, you do remember what we were like when we were sleeping together, trying to be normal?"

"Of course I do!" she snapped, furiously.

Ste felt tears in his own eyes, "You don't want to go back to that, do you? Because I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you again!"

Amy shook her head, more tears falling, distorting her voice as she whispered "But I don't want you to leave me either."

"And I don't want you to leave me!" said Ste, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was. He didn't want to imagine not having Amy and the kids with him, "But that's what Lee will want, isn't it?"

Amy snorted. "I wouldn't leave you for Lee!"

"Won't ya?" asked Ste, nervously.

"No way!" cried Amy, "He's like an overgrown toddler. I've got enough of them, thanks!"

"Promise?" said Ste, worriedly.

"Of course!" said Amy, like it, too, was obvious.

Ste put a hand across the table, hoping she would take it. She did. "So, we promise we're not leaving each other?" he said. "And that we'll always look out for each other?"

She nodded, and Ste got up, skirting the table to sit next to her and let her head relax on his shoulder.

"But I won't mind if you sleep with him," he added after a short silence, "If you want."

"Nah," she said, "it would be like sleeping with an over enthusiastic puppy."

Ste laughed. "Yeah, I could imagine that. He was practically slobbering all over you today."

"Oi!" she said.

"Clambering over chairs so you'd notice him. If he'd had a tail he would have wagged it."

"Hey!" Amy cried, shoving his shoulder gently.

"If we'd thrown a stick, do you think we would have gone to fetch it?"

"Coming from Mr 'Please, please, please, please, fuck me, please!'

"Alright!" Ste snapped, peering round the door to check the kids hadn't overheard. "We got over excited, didn't we?"

"That's an understatement," said Amy, "It's a good job the kids are heavy sleepers."

Ste was sure he was a brilliant shade of crimson, but let her tease, letting his head rest on hers, hoping that they'd found a good middle ground, where they could be happy and not destroy each other. But Amy wasn't done.

"There is… someone…" she said, slowly, hesitantly.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, nervously.

"Yeah," she said, "he works down the way a bit. Tall, handsome…"

"Right…" said Ste.

"I mean," said Amy, "it might be that nothing happens, we only met last night…"

"I'm listening," Ste prompted.

"He seemed nice. I mean, I was upset, about that argument, and he was outside, having a cigarette," she stopped, searching for words. "He was nice," she finished.

"Nice?" Ste asked, with a smirk, "Do you mean he was handsome, Amy Barnes?"

"Shut up!" Amy scolded. "Maybe."

Ste laughed, and Amy got up, almost making him fall.

"Are you just gonna tease me all day, or are we gonna get these kids fed?" she said. Ste smiled, and happily helped her cook. It took quite some time, and Ste went to check on the children a few times, and found them happily playing. Brendan arrived home before the food was ready.

The moment Ste heard the door go, he abandoned the carrots to run to Brendan, unsure what to expect. He'd seen him just hours before, when the job was done, but anything could have happened since then. Brendan looked at him like he was mad when he rushed into the hall, and Ste stopped to check he was unhurt.

"You're alright?" Ste asked, worriedly.

Brendan smirked, "Of course."

Ste looked him up and down again, maybe to check for injuries, maybe just to look at him.

"So…" he said, checking Brendan's face for signs of lies, "it all went… alright?"

"Of course," Brendan repeated, confidently.

Ste raised his eyebrows, "So, no… mistakes, no danger, no… last minute changes of plan?"

"Nope," lied Brendan, easily.

"Huh," said Ste, wondering whether to call him on the lie or not. It probably wasn't important. Brendan was probably still trying to keep him out of all that. Or maybe he was still trying to be manly, and show Ste how strong and capable he was.

"Did you have a nice day?" Brendan asked, one hand slipping to Ste's hip.

"Yeah," said Ste, vaguely. If Brendan lied, he didn't see why he shouldn't. He decided to let it pass, mostly because Brendan was looking ready to eat him.

"Amy's making some dinner," said Ste, mostly to remind himself.

"Oh," said Brendan, peering round Ste to look down the stairs, "do you think we've got time?"

Ste suddenly had no memory of the food.

"Time for what?" he asked, mouth suddenly very dry, knowing full well what the answer to that would be.

Brendan smirked.

Ste smirked back, "I'm sorry Brendan, I don't know what you're talking about."

Brendan grunted, looking Ste up and down appreciatively, before suddenly grabbing Ste and throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Ste tried very hard not to scream like a girl, as Brendan ran up the stairs. Even as he clung on for dear life, Ste was impressed: Brendan was incredibly strong, even though the older man was breathing hard by the time they reached the bedroom.

Brendan dropped him on the bed, Ste's legs dangling off one edge. Ste couldn't have cared less if this was his last dinner in a week, there was no where he would rather be than this room right now. He grabbed Brendan's shirt and pulled himself up for a kiss. Brendan allowed one kiss before growling and pushing him down again.

"Oi," said Ste.

Brendan smirked, looking down on him from above. Ste saw a great new game in the making.

He rolled off the bed, away from Brendan and away from the door, and stood with his lower lip caught between his teeth, and a look that felt sinful on his face. Brendan watched his movement with interest.

"That how you wanna play it, is it?" growled Brendan.

Ste couldn't help but grin. Brendan never took eyes off of Ste as he pulled off his own tie, laying it carefully on the bed. Then he began on his buttons. Ste didn't follow suit with his own clothes; he was too distracted by the form before him, the vision of perfect masculinity. He swallowed.

"You getting back on the bed?" Brendan asked, voice rough.

Ste shook his head, biting his lip to stop himself giggling.

Once his upper body was completely bare, Brendan turned to face him fully, eyes dark, strong chest moving with his breaths. Ste swallowed again and Brendan raised an eyebrow.

"Make me," Ste whispered.

Brendan only hesitated a second before he came at Ste. Ste backed away, trying desperately not to giggle or make a fool of himself. When Brendan was less than two feet from him, he jumped to the side, and tried to run. Brendan caught him round the middle with ease, hands gripping his hips and making Ste bend over, giving Brendan a view of his bottom.

Ste laughed aloud, and squirmed, twisting and turning, as Brendan pulled him in, pushing their bodies together. "Alright, alright, I yield!" Ste called, as Brendan twisted him around and found his lips. Ste let their mouths join, let Brendan pull his shirt from where it met his trousers, loosening enough buttons that it could be pulled over his head, and the moment his arms were loose, ran again.

He knew he wasn't getting anywhere near the door. He knew Brendan would catch him. He was hoping for it, and true enough Brendan's fingers caught a firm grasp on his wrist, which he used to pull Ste back. He threw Ste back onto the bed, all gentleness gone, and Ste beamed up at him as he wriggled again.

Brendan let out a throaty growl as he pounced on top of Ste and kissed him into breathlessness while Ste wriggled beneath him. When Ste tried to wrap arms around Brendan's neck, he grasped Ste's wrists, not letting up on the kiss, and pushed them above Ste's head. Ste grinned. He loved it when Brendan held him down. It sent thrills through his whole body, the feel of Brendan's whole body above him, strong and hard and powerful, yet his hands so soft on his wrists. Very soft. Ste wriggled, testing the strength, enjoying the feel of Brendan's hands on him, body pressing down on him, knowing both their cocks would be straining against the material of their trousers and underwear.

All too soon Brendan pulled away from the kiss, sitting up, one leg on each side of Ste's thighs, holding his hips down, keeping all promise of pleasure at the front of Ste's mind, but failing to deliver on any of it. Ste wanted to grab him and force him into another kiss, wipe that smug look off his face.

But he couldn't.

He looked up at his wrists, and cried, "Eh, that's cheating!"

Brendan's tie was no longer lying innocently on the bed. It was wrapped firmly around Ste's wrists, holding them together and tied to the spindle of the bed. Ste twisted his hands but the soft black silk held firm, inescapable. Brendan laughed darkly at the complaint.

"Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?"

Ste wriggled a bit more, not trying to escape so much as push his hard as a rock manhood against Brendan's. Anything to get him moving. Brendan laughed, and dipped in for another kiss, his tongue slipping into Ste's mouth and taking whatever it wanted as Ste moaned and groaned, and finally managed to wriggle enough for their cocks to touch. Both men groaned, and Brendan pulled his head back again, a hand on either side of Ste's shoulders, looking down at him, with a smirk and twinkle in his eye.

"So," he said suggestively, "did someone say something about dinner?"

Ste frowned, and Brendan swung his legs over Ste's prone form and onto the floor. He looked at Ste one last time from beside the bed and then strolled for the door.

"Don't you fucking dare!" hissed Ste, and Brendan threw him a smirk over his shoulder. When he reached the door, he put one hand on the handle. "Brendan!" Ste cried, voice now a plea in desperation. Brendan laughed again, darkly, hand still on the door as Ste twisted on the bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

Then Brendan smirked, opening the door. Ste gasped.

"Amy," he shouted down the stairs, "Steven and I won't be able to have dinner for a while. Just leave it on the light, yeah?"

Then he shut and locked the door.

Ste's stomach went from awash with distressed anxiety, to alight with excitement. And maybe just a bit of anxiety.

Brendan took plenty of time to make his way back to Ste. He didn't even go straight to him, instead leant back on the door to remove his shoes and socks. He dropped them casually aside, and started on his trousers, opening the fly, slowly, eyes locked on Ste's, who knew he was nibbling his own lips in need. Ste had tried to tease yesterday, but something told him Brendan was a master.

The trousers cam off, revealing muscled calves and thighs, and Brendan wandered over to a dresser, where he took his time folding the garment, giving Ste an excellent view of a delectable but frustratingly cloth covered arse that set his breath racing.

Brendan turned back to him, still acting like he had all the time in the world, though Ste was relieved to see the older man's penis betraying his lust. He tried to look tempting, but suspected he just looked silly, and Brendan was still smirking in that maddening way that made Ste desperate to snog the look away. Still Brendan's path was slow, moving down to the foot of the bed where he knelt.

"Please," Ste begged, not sure what he was begging for, a touch, a kiss, anything.

"In a hurry, Steven?" Brendan whispered, crawling just close enough so Ste could reach him with his feet. He tried to do just that. Brendan was too far away to use his feet as a hook, but he ran his toes up Brendan's hard chest. Brendan caught the foot with one hand. "Tut tut," he said, "Do I need to tie these down, too?"

"Oh God," groaned Ste, "please, just… please!"

"Please what?" teased Brendan, stroking the trapped leg and foot, sending goose bumps amongst the soft hair there. Ste could barely manage a groan again, and Brendan made him worse by gently kissing the soft skin on his ankle. "You should see yourself, Steven," he breathed, the warm air caressing the skin he'd just touched with his lips, "You look good enough to eat. So desperate, so turned on." His lips touched Ste's foot again, higher up the ankle this time, pushing the cotton of Ste's trousers up further, revealing more flesh. "You're eyes have gone all dark," He lathered a spot just above Ste's ankle with tongue, and then breathed on it again, "And I can see every breath you take making your chest rise and fall, and every muscle in your arms as they strain. But I can't see enough."

He let go of Ste's leg and started on his fly. Ste watched the fingers, desperately, craving the touch on his straining manhood. He tried to wriggle his hips to get the touch where he wanted. He failed, and Brendan was already pulling his trousers down, the wriggle helping him get them loose. Knowing what would help him get want he wanted, he obligingly lifted his legs to get the trousers free, and Brendan was much more careless with Ste's than he'd been with his own, simply throwing them somewhere on the floor. He pulled Ste's underwear off with even less patience, dropping them thoughtlessly to the side. He kissed Ste full on the lips again, then sat up.

"Now, where was I?" he whispered, and Ste groaned when he picked up Ste's leg aimed a kiss on the juncture between ankle and leg. "What?" he breathed, moving slightly higher up the leg and using his tongue to excite the hair there, "this not what you were after, Steven?"

He crept higher, slow enough to drive Ste mad, the cool air the only thing that touched his desperate cock doing nothing to help. He felt Brendan shift forward, taking hold of Ste's thigh, and working his knee, and Ste breathed, trying to calm himself enough to take the opportunity when it struck. The second Brendan was close enough, he threw his free leg around the man's waist, trying desperately to pull him closer, close enough to get the touch he needed.

Brendan barely moved.

"What, this too slow for you, Steven?" He grasped the leg Ste had wrapped around him, and pushed both Ste's legs up. "Do you want me here?" he asked, taking both Ste's ankles in one grip and running a hand gently over Ste's bum.

"God, yes!" Ste gasped, but Brendan only smirked and smacked it playfully. Then he put Ste's legs back down on the bed, and sat astride his thighs, holding them down again with his weight.

"I'm nowhere near done," he growled, and attacked Ste's neck with lips and tongue. His fingers found their way on to Ste's nipples, caressing them to peaks, then twisting cruelly, sending sparks of pleasure through Ste's whole body and making him arch off the bed. Ste pulled so hard against the tie, a part of him hoped Brendan wasn't hoping to ever wear it again because it must surely be ruined by now. He was emitting nonsensical pleads and gasps and moans, and eventually Brendan had to admit he wasn't made of stone.

He manoeuvred Ste, manipulating him like he was made of cloth, lifting his legs up and over his shoulders, lifting Ste almost completely off the bed, so only his shoulders still rested on the mattress. He grinned as Ste once again marvelled at his strength. "This more like it Steven?" he breathed, roughly, but his control was gone, and Ste could only nod in desperation, and allow Brendan's hand to make its way to his arse. Brendan squeezed the flesh he found there, and then put his hand to Ste's mouth, his meaning clear. Ste sucked in the proffered fingers, lathering them with saliva, and had to bite his lip the moment the fingers were gone. He could beg no more in case he stopped Brendan giving him what he needed.

Brendan didn't seem to have patience any more. His fingers were rough and demanding and Ste couldn't have been happier with the development. The preparation was limited, and Ste couldn't care less; he was ready to explode if anything touched that bundle of nerves inside him.

In seconds Brendan was ready, lined up and inside him, and if Brendan hadn't covered Ste's mouth, Ste would have screamed. Brendan chuckled darkly, and let go of his mouth to get a firmer grip on Ste's legs. Ste couldn't believe the man's strength sometimes, as he felt the powerful thrusts Brendan started with, while his arse was still in the air, held up by Brendan's grip on his legs and shoulders. He dissolved into incoherent moans and pleas once again, though what he was pleading for was beyond him. This was all he could possibly want from life; Brendan's incredible domination of his body, the inescapable pleasure, the needs being satisfied, and Ste being filled to the brim with Brendan's huge and beautiful cock.

It only felt like seconds before he was coming, grateful that Brendan caught his screams with his own mouth, though he must have bent Ste's body clean in half to do it. Ste didn't even feel discomfort. Nothing was relevant beyond the pure pleasure pumping through his body. He somehow knew Brendan was following him. They were a perfect fit in so many ways, and he knew exactly what Brendan had meant. How could this be so wrong when it felt so much like heaven?

Brendan took an age to roll off of him, and even then seemed reluctant to let go. He kept one hand on Ste's inner thigh, thumb stroking the skin gently. They kissed again, softly this time, as they came down.

"I think you like that," whispered Brendan, "your hands tied."

"No!" said Ste, thinking about the mercilessness with which Brendan had teased him, though knowing it was a lie. "Yes," he added, more truthfully.

Brendan smiled. "Yeah. I thought so." He made no move to untie him, and just pulled them closer together, pulling one of Ste's legs over his until they were flush against each other. "You hungry?" he whispered.

Ste shook his head, and let his head fall against a pillow, watching Brendan's content face over his bound hands.

"Good," said Brendan, "me neither."

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, ready to sleep. Ste was too. Except for one thing.

"Brendan? Are you going to untie me?"

The older man breathed deeply, eyes still closed, hand resting casually on Ste's leg.

"Brendan?" Ste repeated. "Bren?"

'Bastard' he thought with a smile, as he felt himself drift off to sleep too.

**Reviews are better than caffeine at keeping me going. Keep me supplied! x**


	44. Chapter 44

**Thanks for the reviews! I love reading them so much! Hope I'm still keeping it interesting!**

Ste didn't remember Brendan untying him as he snoozed, but when he awoke the tie was gone, and Ste's hands were resting on a well toned chest. He smiled and snuggled closer, but his stomach was groaning at its lack of food. He fidgeted, weighing the positives and negatives of getting something to eat against staying here in the warmth of Brendan's arms.

His fidgeting woke Brendan, who grumbled something.

"You hungry?" Ste whispered.

Brendan groaned, "Starving."

"You fancy doing something about that?" Ste asked.

Brendan groaned again, and rolled over. "Fine," said Ste, "I'll get us something, but don't get used to it."

He pulled his trousers and shirt on, not bothering with anything else. It would be a quick trip down. It was still light outside. They couldn't have slept for long, and Ste could hear the kids playing boisterously in the room with chairs. He glanced inside to be sure they hadn't actually damaged anything, and when he was certain they and the room were safe he went all the way down to the kitchen.

Amy had left them some beef and vegetables. Ste glanced around for her, and spotted her through the outside door, leaning on the gate, chatting to someone in the alley.

He was filled with curiosity. This must be her secret male friend. Could he catch a glimpse? The man was just on the wrong side of the wall, but if Ste came out quietly enough, he could see the man that Amy liked without Amy knowing. He was about to do just that when he remembered he had nothing on his feet. He could look for his shoes, but decided that trying to meet this man before Amy was ready would be a big breach of trust. He shouldn't do it. Instead he grabbed a plate and loaded it with food for himself and Brendan.

The lazy bastard was at least sitting up in bed when Ste arrived, checking out the plate Ste had brought so readily that Ste suspected food would be more interesting than naked Ste right now. He brought the plate to the bed, placing it between them, and watching Brendan take a massive pile of it in his fingers and shoving it into his mouth.

Ste snorted. "I thought gentlemen was supposed to be refined, like," he said, taking a piece of meat and nibbling on it.

Brendan smirked, and opened his legs, revelling in his naked body. "I ain't no gentleman."

"You can say that again," said Ste, appreciating the man in front of him.

Brendan picked up a potato, "I ain't…" he put the potato between his lips and looked at Ste expectantly. Ste leant forward and bit half the potato away, rubbing lips as they did so.

"A gentleman," Brendan finished, mouth still full of potato. Ste swallowed his own mouthful and grinned at him.

They ate together easily, sat comfortably on the bed, and eventually fell into another round of sex. Even as he felt totally sated, to Ste it seemed impossible to get enough of Brendan Brady, even when he knew he had to slip out of the bedroom to say goodnight to Amy and the kids. He worried that they were getting careless, taking risks. The number of people who knew what was going on seemed to grow every day; Danny, Declan, Amy, Simon, possibly Jacqui. Any one of them could cause a world of trouble for them both, but stopping was impossible. Brendan's body clouded his brain to the point where all thought was pointless.

Again, they slept together that night, revelling in the feel of each other's bodies, and enjoying the closeness even in their sleep. Ste had never known a contentedness like it, and when he awoke was greeted by the beautiful sight of Brendan's naked arse getting out of bed.

"Do we have to get up?" he asked, wanting a whole day lying naked together more than anything.

"Someone has to run the club," Brendan grumbled, "or we'll have to go live in a slum somewhere."

"If you were there, I wouldn't care," said Ste, who'd lived in plenty of slums.

"But we'd have no space to fuck, Steven," Brendan pointed out, "how does that sound?"

Ste pulled a face. "Alright, I'll get up."

"Hmm, unless I tie you to the bed," said Brendan, thoughtfully.

"Not unless you're staying," said Ste.

"Better get dressed before I find myself unable to resist temptation, then," growled Brendan.

Ste was very tempted, but decided it could wait. They had to do something other than sex sometimes, or else the sex wouldn't seem quite so special. Probably. Even with a Greek God like Brendan. They dressed and ate, and Brendan left the house first, as Ste flitted round, giving the kids a bit of the attention he felt he should have on Sunday if he hadn't been so distracted.

"Daddy," said Leah, thoughtfully, as Ste dangled Lucas by his feet, the toddler giggling manically, "where do you sleep now?"

Ste had the forethought not to drop Lucas, but not much else. Leah was a bright girl, she needed an answer, and Ste had to think hard to find one.

"Well, sometimes I'm still in with you two and Mummy," he said carefully. It wasn't a lie, he had slept there a couple of times since they moved in to the Brady house, "and sometimes the other room upstairs, and sometimes I don't sleep very much, because sometimes Daddys don't sleep much."

"Why not?" asked Leah, curiously.

"Well, sometimes, Daddys are just too busy to sleep," he said. That wasn't a lie either. Not exactly anyway. And he hadn't lied about sleeping with Brendan, he just hadn't mentioned it.

"Don't you get sleepy, though?" asked Leah.

"Yeah," said Ste, carefully, "but sometimes it's worth it."

He dropped a now thoroughly over excited Lucas onto the sofa and threw Leah over his shoulder, which was thankfully enough distraction for the little girl. He realised they would have to send her to school soon. The thought almost scared him. He remembered being forced to go to school at the age of six, sitting in a huge class and being told he was stupid for not being able to read , and being caned for answering back. Though it was obvious that Leah was clever like Amy, he worried about how much she would answer back. In lots of ways, she was far too much like Ste.

It started pouring with rain just as Ste was about to leave. He ran down the streets, coat pulled over his head, but was soaked through by the time he reached the club. He sprinted down the steps to the back entrance and gave Simon a grin when he spotted him lurking in the doorway, cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth.

"Hallo," Simon greeted with a grin as Ste approached.

"Alright?" said Ste as he tried to step past.

Simon stepped into his way.

"Er, I'm trying to get inside here, Simon!" Ste protested, "I'm soaked through!"

"Is that so?" smirked Simon, "I think you look a bit dodgy to me."

"Oi!" said Ste, annoyed and offended by the word 'dodgy'.

"Yes, distinctly dodgy," said Simon. "I'm not sure I should be letting the likes of you in here."

"Have you gone mental?" Ste cried, rain pouring down his face.

Simon grinned, "Some people would be offering a bribe by now, Ste," he said with a grin.

"I ain't bribing you to go work!" Ste stated, forcefully.

"You haven't heard the price yet," said Simon.

"Simon, I'm shivering here, are you gonna let me in or what?"

Simon looked abashed, "I'll let you in if you promise to forgive me for… you know… kidnapping you."

Ste rolled his eyes and laughed. "If you promise not to do it again."

Simon sucked his teeth, "Hmmm, not sure I can go that far. How about I promise to warn you if Brendan asks me to do anything like it again?"

Ste sighed, "Alright, you're forgiven, now get out the way!"

Simon grinned, "Thank you, good Sir, and you are most welcome to our humble establishment!" he bowed and waved Ste to pass him.

Ste did, muttering "Idiot," as he passed.

Simon mock gasped, "Do you insult me, Sir?! Maybe I should put you back outside!"

Ste ran from him, "Don't you dare!" he cried, as Simon advanced, smirk in place. Ste put himself on the other side of some barrels, laughing hard and shaking his soggy head. It was a fifty-fifty chance if Simon would go left or right. Ste watched him cautiously, left or right, left or right? Simon went right and Ste ran the other way, except it was a fake. Ste cried out as he tried to stop himself charging straight into Simon, who grabbed him round the middle.

"Hey!" shouted a voice from upstairs, "you two here to behave like kids, or are you planning on working today?"

Brendan sounded angry, and Ste wondered if he'd got the wrong idea about Simon again. "Sorry, Brendan," he mumbled, pulling away from Simon and hanging his drenched coat up on a peg by the door.

"Sorry, Brendan," Simon copied, and Ste suspected he hadn't quite stopped smiling yet.

"You, get behind the bar," ordered Brendan, lacking the softness of someone who'd accepted an apology, "you on the door, we're opening in ten minutes!"

Ste trudged up the stairs, trying to get a smile out of Brendan, but the Irishman wouldn't catch his eye. Ste continued up towards the bar, where he could see Jacqui was unloading a crate, but paused to hear anything Brendan had left to say to Simon.

"I'm watching you, Walker," Brendan growled, before his feet turned and he stormed back into the office. Ste rolled his eyes. Simon wasn't interested in Ste that way, they were just messing around. Not that Ste wasn't slightly flattered by the jealousy.

It was a slightly lighter night than usual. The crowd was smaller than usual, but Brendan seemed to be keeping out of the way. Ste kept looking for him, wondering what he was up to. Was he still in the office or had he managed to sneak upstairs without Ste noticing? Was he doing paperwork or was he dealing with customers?

Ste waited for a small lull, until there were few enough people that Jacqui wouldn't be overwhelmed, then wondered off.

He knocked politely on the door of Brendan's office and waited for a response. He didn't get one, so he opened the door.

Brendan was sat behind the desk, looking at the door thoughtfully. "I don't remember inviting ye in," he said in greeting.

Ste smiled, and walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"You have a problem with authority don't ye, Steven?" Brendan said with a smirk.

Ste nodded, giving Brendan the sneakiest grin he could. "It's dead quiet out there," he said.

"Is it?" said Brendan, not getting up.

"Yeah," said Ste, "I don't even think they'll care I'm not there."

Brendan grunted a laugh, "Didn't take you for workshy, Steven," he said.

Ste thought about being offended, but decided it wasn't as fun as sitting on the desk in front of Brendan. He went round and got in between Brendan and his desk in order to do just that.

"Interesting," said Brendan, still annoyingly unexcited, "And you certain you wouldn't prefer to be sitting on Walker's desk?"

Ste laughed at him. "Seriously?" he said, spreading his legs in what he hoped was an alluring way, "I've seen you naked, you really think Simon can compare to that?"

Brendan grunted, "So what was all that about, before?"

"We were messing about, Brendan," said Ste, because it was bloody obvious, "am I not allowed mates?"

Brendan grumbled, and Ste smiled at him. "I kinda like that you're jealous," said Ste.

"I ain't jealous of nothing," growled Brendan.

Ste smiled at him again. "So, you don't need me to prove anything then?"

Brendan grumbled, and looked at him hopefully. Ste grinned again.

"Prove what?" asked Brendan, voice gruff.

"How much I want you," said Ste, voice dropping to a whisper.

Brendan raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening," he said.

"I wasn't planning on saying it," Ste whispered, closing his legs and dropping down to the floor before Brendan. He bent down and kissed Brendan gently on the lips, before dropping to his knees, supporting himself on Brendan's muscled thighs. Then he reached for the buttons of Brendan's fly, popping each slowly, looking at Brendan with a smirk.

With the buttons out of the way, he pushed Brendan's underwear just low enough to release his cock, which he stroked twice before looking at Brendan questioningly.

Brendan's mouth held a smirk, "I think I like the way you persuade, Steven," he grinned.

Ste grinned back and gently put his mouth to Brendan's cock, teasing the end lightly with his tongue. The cock showed interest, hardening quickly under Ste's hands and mouth. Ste grinned one more time, before he swiped the whole head with his tongue, appreciating the quiet noise of encouragement Brendan gave him.

Then the door opened.

Brendan was a quick mover, and Ste somehow found himself completely under the desk before he'd even had time to think, Brendan's legs blocking the way out.

"Oh, there you are, love," he heard Cheryl gasp.

"Sis, this is not such a good time," said Brendan.

"Oh, spoil sport, it's dead out there, even for a Monday," said Cheryl.

"What do you want, Cheryl?" Brendan growled, and Ste was impressed that he'd managed to not sound angry, just put out that he had lots to do and Cheryl was interrupting. Ste could see his cock still peeking out from his trousers. He had a naughty idea.

"You've been neglecting me," said Cheryl, her voice like a child's, and Ste nearly rolled his eyes.

"If you say so, Cheryl," said Brendan, "I'll take ye somewhere nice soon, but right now, I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"In the middle of what?" cried Cheryl, "some paperwork? Is that more important than your sister?"

Ste put his hand, very gently, on Brendan's thigh and felt Brendan's muscles tense underneath his fingers.

"Right now, my sister is interrupting some good solid work time."

Ste ran his hand higher and higher up Brendan's thigh, then pulled the trousers aside again and made his target was completely free.

"Brendan! This was supposed to be fun! The two of us running this place together…"

"Course it's fun Chez, we just have to do the boring stuff, too." Brendan was trying to close his legs. Ste knelt carefully between them so he couldn't. He ran a finger up the length of Brendan's cock.

"Come out into the bar, Bren!" begged Cheryl, and Ste could imagine her pouting and playing with her hair like Leah would if she wanted something. He knew a counter argument to that. His tongue followed the path his finger had just taken.

He heard Brendan's sharp intake of breath. "Later, Cheryl," he managed.

"But Bren…"

Ste took Brendan's whole cock into his mouth.

"Later!" Brendan almost shouted.

"Alright, keep your hair on!" cried Cheryl, "I'm going!"

Ste could hear her leave, muttering to herself in annoyance, and he grinned around the appendage in his mouth. He heard the door close and instantly felt Brendan's hands in his hair, pulling him out from under the desk.

"You little brat!" He growled, and crashed their lips together. Ste went with the kiss, feeling very proud of himself for breaking through Brendan's veneer of control. "Next time," he growled against Ste's lips, "lock the fucking door!"

He shoved Ste up against said door to prove the point, and locked it before pulling his trousers down and fucking him, hard. Ste laughed until he became too aroused to do anything except moan. Ste hoped he was managing to do it quietly.

It was over too soon. Ste was panting against the door, and Brendan was leaning against him, both spent.

"Satisfied?" Ste breathed.

"Cocky little bastard!" growled Brendan, running lips over Ste's neck.

"That's me," breathed Ste, grin unmovable. "She doesn't suspect anything, does she?"

Brendan snorted, "She thinks I'm grumpier than before."

"Nah," said Ste, "she always knew you was grumpy."

Brendan laughed against his skin, gently stroking Ste's back. "Hmm, you should be getting back to work."

Ste screwed up his face, "You sure? We could go again?"

"We could keep going until there's no one buying anything in my club and we're all out of a job, but that ain't a good idea. Get back to work."

Ste kissed him, but Brendan was pulling up his trousers and Ste's, and Ste knew when he was beaten. He did his own trousers up, and tucked his shirt in, trying to look like he hadn't just been thoroughly shagged. Then he ran his hands over Brendan's hair, trying to sort it out.

"You look like you've been dragged through a bush," Ste laughed.

"So do you," said Brendan, running his own fingers through Ste's hair.

"So, you get the idea?" said Ste, "I'm not interested in anyone else."

Brendan grunted, "If you say so. Doesn't mean he ain't interested in you."

"He's not!" protested Ste, "He just wants to be mates."

"Yeah, if you saw what I see when I look at you, you'd know how much bollocks that is."

Ste grinned and kissed him again. Brendan kissed back and when they were done, they pulled back just enough to lean their foreheads together. "The thing with Walker…" Brendan started in a whisper, but stopped and shook his head, "it doesn't matter. You ready?"

"I suppose," said Ste, sadly.

"Ok," said Brendan, giving one more kiss, more chased this time, before they separated and Brendan opened the door.

A man Ste had never seen was stood right in front of them.

"What…" Brendan started.

He got no further. The man lunged forward. Brendan lurched back but not far enough. Brendan let out a hideous noise, a groan unlike any Ste had heard before, and clutched at his stomach, as the man took a step back. Ste could see red liquid slipping through the cracks between Brendan's fingers. Then Brendan fell to the ground.

**Boom! There's that plot you've all been waiting for. Reviews bring quicker chapters!**


	45. Chapter 45

**AN: So we liked plot back with a vengeance? Shall make sure I keep the plot good and strong. Thanks for all the lovely reviews. In reward, here is the next instalment. Hope you enjoy! **

Ste was too shocked to make any noise. A red stain grew on Brendan's shirt, low on his belly, and Ste exactly what that meant. He stared at the intruder, the evil bastard that had stabbed Brendan, almost unable to move.

The man who'd stabbed Brendan looked almost as shocked as Ste. He stared at Brendan for long moments, as the Irishman gasped, and clutched at his belly. Then the bastard ran, out through the bar and presumably out of the main door. Ste couldn't have cared less. Brendan was on the floor, bleeding.

He fell to his knees, "Brendan?" he gasped, "Brendan!"

Brendan gasped, "I'm… I'm… alright…"

Ste didn't believe him, and pulled the shirt away. Blood fell heavily from the wound on Brendan's belly. Ste could barely breathe in his shock.

"Steven," gasped Brendan, "Steven, it's alright, just... just… find a… doctor or something, and… just… don't tell Cheryl, she'll …."

Ste nodded, though he had no idea how he could get help and not let Cheryl find him while they were here. He had to get him out.

"Wait here!" he said, "I'll be back, I promise."

Brendan nodded, and Ste helped him lean back against the doorway, where he breathed hard, before Ste sprang up, and ran for the main door. He could only think of one person who could he could trust to help right now. "Simon!" he gasped, "Simon, I need your help, now!"

"What's the matter?" asked Simon, frowning.

"It's Brendan, please!" gasped Ste.

"What about him?" asked Simon, with a frown, shutting the main door in the face of a surprised looking man in a smart suit.

"He's been hurt," Ste cried, realising he was sobbing, "I need… please… help me get him somewhere safe… and…" And then what? Ste had no clue.

Walker looked pale. He locked the door with a bolt. "Show me," he ordered.

Ste wasted no time, pushing his way back through the people in the club, hoping Simon was following. Brendan looked so pale when they reached him, his breathing erratic. Ste fell down to his knees at Brendan's side, and grasped his hand, "Brendan?" he said, "look at me."

Brendan did just that, but also looked annoyed "You got… Walker?"

"Yeah, I can't get you anywhere by myself," Ste pointed out, "Simon's going to help us!"

Brendan laughed humourlessly. "Are ye? Simon?"

"Course he is!" said Ste, "Simon, what do we do?"

"We shouldn't move him…" Simon muttered, looking at Brendan with concern.

"Cheryl's not seeing this!" growled Brendan.

"Can we get him to a hospital?" asked Ste.

"You want to answer them questions do you Brendan?" asked Simon, with surety.

"No," said Brendan.

"We can take him back to …" Ste started, then worried he was about to give everything away. But it didn't matter, "Take him back to where you helped me take Doug, can you do that?"

"Can you help me?" asked Simon.

Ste nodded, "Course, anything!"

"Right," said Simon, looking around himself, "we need something to carry him on...er…"

"What?" asked Ste.

"Like, a plank or something," said Walker "so he doesn't have to walk."

"I can walk," growled Brendan, and tried unsuccessfully to stand. Ste had to support him back down as he groaned in pain.

"Stop being stupid," Ste ordered, with strength he didn't feel. "How about… the bar?"

"You ain't taking my bar apart!" Brendan protested.

"Shut up and do as you're told!" said Ste.

"I think Cheryl might notice that," said Simon.

"I don't care!" Ste shouted, but the look on Brendan's face swayed him, "from the Greek room, then."

Brendan growled, "I am not going to be happy about this when I can walk again!"

"Go and get it!" gasped Ste.

"You're the boss," said Simon. "Press down on the wound, Brendan," he added, setting off up the stairs, "That's supposed to slow the bleeding."

"And hurry up!" Ste cried after him. Simon obligingly started to run, but nothing would seem quick enough for Ste right now. He tried to push down on Brendan's wound, but that just made him groan, "How are you doing?" he asked Brendan, gripping his hand.

"Great, Steven, I've been fucking stabbed!"

"You think I don't know that?!" Ste cried, the tears falling uselessly and angrily down his face.

"Steven, just…" Brendan was breathing hard, now pushing down on his wound with one hand, clutching Ste with the other "don't … I don't trust Walker!"

"Ok," said Ste, knowing better than to get Brendan arguing when he was like this, "OK, but we need him right now, I can't get you out of here by myself."

"I know… I know… just… don't…"

"Do you trust me, Brendan?" said Ste.

Brendan snorted.

"Oi!" said Ste, "You're hardly in a position to doubt me right now!"

Brendan sniffed, "I know what you like about me," he said, "You want me for my strength, my body..."

"I like you about you!" said Ste, angry that Brendan was suggesting Ste would abandon him now. "I'm going to help ya, so shut up before I change my mind!"

Brendan laughed again, and gripped his hand.

"You gotta… look out for Cheryl…" gasped Brendan, "if I don't… if…"

"While you ain't well, I'll look after her," said Ste, "but you better bloody well get better, because I'm still holding some ill will from when she interrupted us!"

Brendan squeezed his hand "I'll … do my … best."

Simon reappeared, a plank of wood about two feet wide and four feet long under one arm. "I broke one of the tables," said Simon. "I thought it would be better than breaking the bar."

"Ok," said Ste, who couldn't care less what was broken, "OK, put it on the floor."

Between them they managed to get Brendan half sitting, half lying on the board. His legs and head were hanging off each end, but they couldn't worry about it. They carried him with difficulty down the stairs and out of the back of the club (Brendan insisted they not go through the customers). The journey to the Brady's house was long and exhausting, and Ste heard Brendan's breathing get more erratic.

Ste took them in the back, knowing he could get in that way. Amy was sat at the table with some sewing, and gasped at the interruption.

"What's going on?" she gasped.

"It's Brendan," Ste gasped, "He's…"

He didn't need to explain. Amy could see quite clearly the state that Brendan was in. She ran before them, opening the doors, and when they reached Brendan's room, she ripped up some sheets to push against the wound. "Right," she said "I don't really… know what to do."

Ste didn't either. Simon shook his head. They needed a doctor. Brendan was losing consciousness.

"Keep talking to him!" Ste instructed, "I've got to get help."

He ran out again. Not really believing where his own feet were going. He needed help, someone who knew about medicine. He knew only one place to go, one person that might be able to help.

The hospital was dark, but there were still people flitting around, nurses. He knew only one person who was possible. He grabbed the first nurse he saw. "Please, I need to find Nurse Collins; do you know where she is?"

The nurse looked alarmed, "I can't … I don't know…"

Ste groaned and ran up to the ward where Lucas had been. There were two nurses, looking bored, one reading a book, the other writing on a clip board. He didn't recognise either. "I'm looking for Nurse Collins," he announced.

They both looked at him with surprise, "She doesn't work nights…" said one, nervously. The other shook her head.

Ste swore. "Do you know where I can find her?"

A new voice answered before the nurses could, "We are not in the habit of giving out nurses' home addresses," announced Sister Grace, sending a shiver down Ste's back.

He almost gave up at the sight of her. "Please, I need help," he begged, "He needs help."

"He?" said Sister Grace. She was dressed in a coat and hat, obviously about to leave. Ste had nothing to lose. Brendan was more important than anything else, and Ste needed to make Sister Grace understand.

"He paid for Lucas's treatment. He looked after my son, and now he's hurt," he looked at Sister Grace's stern gaze with a plea in his voice, "Please, will you help me?"

Sister Grace put her head on one side thoughtfully.

"Please," Ste repeated, "please, I don't know what to do, and I've got to help him, I can't..." Ste had to stop himself. He couldn't say everything he wanted to. Sister Grace would never understand. "Please," he said again, trying to fight the treacherous tears that wanted to fall yet again.

"Show me," she said, simply and firmly. "You two, there are a thousand and one things to do. If I catch you sitting idle again you will regret it."

"Yes, Sister," the two nurses replied, quickly and worriedly, and jumped up and went in opposite directions. Sister Grace watched them go then went to a supply cupboard and grabbed a mix of bottles and a few other supplies. She looked once again at Ste.

"Show me," she repeated. And Ste nodded. He led her back to the Brady house, and she followed with swift steps and a purposeful manner and didn't say a word. She didn't comment on the house when she got there, only followed Ste's swift steps up to Brendan's bedroom.

Brendan looked worse. He was pale, his eyes closed. Amy was holding a cloth against the wound, having managed to strip Brendan's shirt off, and Simon was leaning against one wall, looking on. "He's still breathing," Amy whispered at them as they walked in. She stared at Sister Grace, probably as surprised as Ste that she'd agreed to help.

Sister Grace took charge instantly, instructing Amy to fetch alcohol, Simon and Ste to hold Brendan down. She inspected the wound, announced that it was serious but not deep. She pulled bottles out of her bag, which she used to clean the wound. Ste was almost relieved when he heard Brendan groan at the sting of the liquid. His eyes opened.

"It's OK," Ste breathed, holding a hand as well as the shoulder Sister Grace had instructed, "It's OK, I'm here."

"Hold him," Sister Grace instructed, and Ste realised she had a needle and thread. "You, take his legs. You girl, give him some to drink to dull the pain."

Walker came down and held his legs, and Ste lifted Brendan's head so he could drink the alcohol, then got on the bed, and put Brendan's head on his lap, so he could hold his shoulders and hand.

"Girl, use this to clean the wound as I go," instructed Sister Grace, handing Amy a clean cloth, and Amy did just that, without question.

"It's OK," Ste repeated, looking into Brendan's eyes. "You're going to be OK, alright?"

Brendan gripped his hand, hard, and accepted the comfort. The grip tightened again each time Sister Grace put her needle through Brendan's skin, but Brendan didn't cry out. Ste couldn't have been prouder if Brendan had been his child.

It was slow and hard, and when it was done, Sister Grace still looked grim.

"You've got to keep it clean, and put a new dressing on every few days," she instructed as she cleared away her things.

"Is he going to be OK?" asked Ste, still kneeling with Brendan's head in his lap.

"It's hard to tell," said Sister Grace, matter of factly, "I can't tell if any of his organs have been damaged. He could get an infection; it could be deeper than it looked. But there's nothing more I can do for him."

Ste closed his eyes for a moment and grasped Brendan's hands tighter.

"Thank you, Sister," said Amy. "Erm, I'm not sure how much we can…"

"I didn't ask for any money, girl, please don't insult me by suggesting that is why I have helped."

"Thank you," said Ste, though he didn't want to move away from the bed.

Sister Grace finished putting her things away and stood straight to look at them. "He is very lucky to have you."

Ste looked at her sharply. He had been careless of the secret while trying to help Brendan, and now another person knew it. There was no point in denying it. "I'm lucky to have him," he countered.

Sister Grace gave a stiff smile. "Give him laudanum for the pain if you have any, or alcohol until you can find some. If you think it is infected, bring him to the hospital."

"Thank you," Ste said again.

"I'll show you out," offered Simon.

"Thank you," replied Sister Grace, and she left with as much purpose as she had arrived. Amy looked around awkwardly.

"I'd better go and check on the kids," she said. "Will you be alright?"

Ste nodded, and put Brendan's head down on the pillow. The Irishman was still conscious, but barely. Ste poured some of the whiskey Amy had fetched straight into his mouth.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me," Amy whispered, and Ste could only nod again. He couldn't leave Brendan's side now, even as he slept. There was a chance Brendan might not make it, and Ste wasn't going to miss a moment of Brendan's life if he could help it. He lay down beside him on the bed, still holding his hand, ready to watch him all night.

"Steven," hissed Brendan. He looked into Ste's eyes. His face was still pale, still exhausted. "I..." Brendan groaned, and closed his eyes. Ste hoped he was just going to sleep. "Thank you," Brendan whispered. "Thank you."

Brendan groaned again, and Ste wished they had laudanum to give him. He gripped the hand tighter. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.

**AN: Don't forget to tell me what you think.**


	46. Chapter 46

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

Ste watched Brendan sleeping for a long time, scared to close his eyes even as he knew he was helpless should Brendan get weaker. He counted his lovers breaths, watched to fluttering of his eyelids as he dreamed, and appreciated his manly beauty, even as he lay so weakened. Eventually, though, the exhaustion had to take its toll, and Ste's eyes drooped. He didn't wake when Amy moved his feet to get the covers over them both, or when Simon returned.

He only woke when Simon shook him lightly.

It was still dark, but Simon had put an oil lamp on the bedside table, giving Ste just enough light to see the new arrival's face, though it was covered in shadow. Ste blinked as everything flooded into his brain at once. His gaze flew back to Brendan who was still lying in the darkness beside him.

"Can I have a word?" Simon asked, his voice worried.

"Yeah," said Ste, not moving away from Brendan. His heart sped up to see him, still so pale and unmoving, but he recognised the steady movement of his chest that announced his breathing was back to normal. That was a good sign, surely?

"Er, do you mind if we… go somewhere else?" asked Simon, glancing at Brendan's sleeping form, "Like, the hallway or something?"

Ste did not want to go anywhere that he couldn't see Brendan. His face must have shown that unwillingness.

"Please," Simon added, and he sounded desperate enough that Ste reluctantly accepted with a sad sigh. Creeping silently out of the bed, he followed Simon and his lamp into the landing.

Simon turned to him, putting the lamp down on a nearby table. His face was nervous, and he seemed unsure where to begin. He scratched his nose and failed to make eye contact, instead, glancing around whatever he could see of the landing in the dim orange glow of the lamp.

"How's he doing?" he finally asked, and Ste didn't need to ask who 'he' was.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, "he's breathing alright, but he's barely moved since Sister Grace left."

Simon nodded, "Look, I've been to the club and locked up. Told Cheryl he took you home because you twisted your ankle. I know it's rubbish, but I didn't know what to say, and he seemed so desperate for Cheryl not to know."

"Thanks," said Ste. He didn't understand why this was even a secret. They couldn't hide it forever. Cheryl was not completely blind. "Next time you make up excuses, think of something that makes me sound like less of a girl."

Simon smiled, "Well, you will go sleeping with men."

Ste rolled his eyes, "So does he, but no one ever suggests he's a girl," Ste protested.

"Ah, but he would cut my balls off if I suggested he was a girl."

Ste couldn't help but smile, sadly. The silliness he'd shared with Simon already felt like another life, but it was nice to be reminded.

Simon wasn't finished though. His face was back to worried after the barest of grins. "Ste, I think he's going to be angry with me when he wakes up."

Ste frowned, "Why?" he asked.

Simon glanced at the door of the bedroom. "Because I was on the door, Ste. It was my job to stop dangerous people from getting in."

Ste was too tired for this, his whole body craved the chance to be near Brendan again, but it was unfair for Simon to blame himself when he had been so helpful. "You didn't know what that man would do. I didn't recognise him, why should you?"

Simon nodded, but didn't look satisfied. "Well, it's not really that, I mean, I wasn't actually on the door, you see, Rhys was."

"Oh," said Ste, drooping as he realised this conversation still wasn't over.

"I'd only just got back from a break when you came to find me. I mean... I don't want to get Rhys into trouble, either, and if I tell him, he's going to find out about the cigarette breaks."

"Well, we'll just not tell him," said Ste with a tired yawn, "It's hardly important right now, is it?"

"Then he'll still blame me for letting them in." Simon brushed his hair out of his face. "I might... I mean... I should probably just... go."

Ste stared at him, "You can't leave!" he cried, panic rising in him. Who could he turn to without Simon? Jacqui was strong and mouthy, but Ste was pretty sure that money was the only thing that turned her eye. Theresa was the same, if not worse, and Rhys's loyalty was naturally to Jacqui. He barely knew the others except Cheryl.

"Well... I don't know," said Simon, looking back at the door and then around him nervously, "I mean, if I stay, all that'll happen is he'll be angry with me. He'll probably sack me anyway, and if I go now, before he's up and about, I can get out of town before he decides to rip my head off."

"He's not going to rip your head off for taking a cigarette break!" said Ste.

"If he blames me for what happened..."

"There's no reason for him to blame you!" Ste argued, "Please, stay. I need you!"

Simon's gaze snapped back to Ste's eyes. "You do?"

Ste could have kicked himself. What a stupid thing to say. He was completely failing to disguise how deep his emotions were. Brendan would have been furious if he'd heard. "He needs you," he corrected.

Simon smiled, shyly, "That's not what you said."

Ste hoped he wasn't flushed. "It's what I meant," he said, stoically, though knowing it was a lost cause. Everyone in the room last night could see plainly how much he cared for Brendan. Pretending they weren't completely obsessed with each other now was a waste of time. "He needs people here and at the club, people he can trust to look after him and his business. I can't be in both at the same time, and I can't leave hi… I mean, Amy's already looking after the kids, isn't she? I can't expect her to do this as well."

Simon took a step back to look Ste up and down, "The pile of favours you owe me is pretty much through the roof already, Ste," he said, a strange edge to his voice. "I'm wondering if you'll ever be able to pay me back."

"I'm not asking for me," replied Ste, "I'm asking for him." Obviously.

"Well, I'm doing it for you," said Simon, simply, his eyes boring into Ste's

Ste found himself stepping away from Simon, as a niggling thought occurred to him. Brendan hadn't been right, surely? Simon didn't want Ste!

"What do you want, though?" Ste asked, worried about the answer.

Simon stepped up closer to Ste, and put a hand on Ste's waist.

"How about," he drawled, with a cocky smile that was almost a leer, dipping his head to Ste's ear, "a go with that pretty blond upstairs."

Ste's fist punched Simon without getting any permission from Ste's brain.

Simon reeled away, taken by surprise, "Jesus, Ste!" he said, clutching his jaw, "I was joking!"

"You don't talk about Amy like that!" Ste cried furiously, "She's the mother of me kids!"

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Simon, now laughing, but still rubbing his jaw, and Ste hoped a nice big bruise would appear there, "You are a pretty incredible, aren't you?"

"No!" said Ste, defensively, unsure whether that was a nice thing for Simon to say or not, and more than ready to punch him again.

"Ste, just…" Simon gasped and laughed again, "it was a compliment, Ste, just take it."

"I knew that," mumbled Ste, unconvincingly.

Simon grinned at him, ignoring how deathly the glare was that Ste gave him back, "I'm sorry. It was a bad joke, and bad timing," he said, jovially, "And I promise to keep my hands off Amy." He leant forward, put his face close to Ste's, which Ste thought was foolhardy while he was still quite keen to hit him, but his expression was suddenly deadly serious, "She isn't my type."

His gaze dropped to Ste's lips, then up again to meet his eyes. Ste suddenly felt very hot. "Stop messing around," he said, "Go and get some sleep. The room we put Doug in should be empty if you want to stay."

Simon blinked, "Have I upset you?"

"No, course not!" said Ste, "I'm just… I'm really tired, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry, Ste," said Simon.

"I'm … I'll go back inside," Ste mumbled, pointing at Brendan's door.

"Ok," said Simon, looking genuinely sad.

With a huge sense of awkwardness, Ste stepped back into Brendan's room. He was annoyed at Simon for keeping him outside too long, for distracting him from where he should be which was in here with Brendan, for setting off so many questions in his head. But it only took one look at Brendan for Ste to forget all the questions. Brendan was awake.

"Steven?" he mumbled, heavily, looking around.

"I'm here," Ste replied quickly.

"Where did you go?" asked Brendan, looking at him like Leah had when they'd lost her in a market once.

"Just outside," he said, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "Simon's sorted the club, locked up and stuff, so there's nothing to worry about, OK? You just rest and get better."

Brendan mumbled something about Simon and the club as Ste got back into the bed beside him. He took Brendan's hand again, not sure if it was for Brendan's comfort or his own. The hand was reassuringly warm, and when Ste took it, the fingers grasped his back. He smiled. "Rest," he repeated, "and get better or I shall never forgive you."

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

He awoke hours later. The sun was squinting through the gaps in the curtain, and Ste felt almost too warm. He pushed the covers down to his hips, to cool down, and did the same for Brendan. It was enough to wake the older man.

"Morning," Ste whispered, a sense of relief flooding him. It felt like Brendan surviving the night was enough to give Ste hope that all would be well.

"Morning," Brendan replied, his voice gruff.

"How are you feeling?" Ste asked.

"Exhausted," Brendan replied.

Ste looked into his face, not sure what he was searching for, "Do you feel like it damaged one of your organs?"

Brendan frowned, "I don't know what that would feel like, Steven," he said.

"Does it feel the same as yesterday?" Ste asked.

Brendan didn't answer, and Ste didn't think that was a positive response.

"Any chance of some food?" asked Brendan.

Ste smiled, "What, you're expecting me to feed you in bed again?"

"Well, I'm always hungry," said Brendan, with a cheeky look, "and you keep telling me to rest, so…."

Ste couldn't help but kiss him. He brought their lips together without thought, and then, when the kiss felt like it should never end, had to restrain himself from any further actions. In fact, it took all his concentration to remember he couldn't jump on top of Brendan, or even pull the older man on top of him. It was going to be a while before Brendan could do anything strenuous. And everything about their sex never failed to be strenuous. Brendan didn't seem to have the same control though, and Ste soon felt a strong hand pulling at his hip, which was quickly followed by a hiss of pain.

Ste pulled away. "I told you to rest!" he scolded

"You started it!" Brendan protested.

"I kissed ya!" Ste argued, "There's a difference."

Brendan's face was almost as stroppy as Ste's could get. Ste smiled, and kissed him on the forehead and got out of bed before he could give in to temptation. "I'll get you some breakfast," he said, unnecessarily.

"And you don't even have to get dressed first," said Brendan, morosely, "That's depressing."

"Well, do as you're told and you'll be better in no time, won't ya?" said Ste, with a grin going to the door.

"Yeah," mumbled Brendan, "wait, what? You mean we don't get to fuck 'til I'm like, completely better?"

Ste didn't reply, partly to tease Brendan, and partly because he didn't know the answer. It wasn't exactly something he would feel comfortable asking Sister Grace.

He went down to the kitchen, and found Amy stood at the stove, preparing bacon and eggs. She smiled at him nervously, then bit her lip.

"How is he?" she asked.

"I don't know," Ste said simply, "I mean, he's talking and he's asked for breakfast."

"Well they're good signs," said Amy, hopefully.

"Yeah," said Ste. He had to believe Brendan was going to be OK. Anything else would send him mad.

"Here," said Amy, dishing up a selection of food onto a plate which she put on a tray for him to take up.

"Thanks," Ste replied, and felt a great flood of gratitude. "I mean it," he said, "You've been amazing."

Amy smiled, "Don't get carried away. It's only breakfast."

"I mean for everything," Ste said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Amy smiled at him. "If you had seen yourself last night, you'd understand."

Ste blushed. He must have been blatant. Brendan was going to be furious when he was better. Ste had to work hard to stop that statement turning to 'if' in his head.

He escaped the kitchen soon enough, and made his way back upstairs. He could hear the kids playing in the room with the chairs, but didn't stop to talk. He climbed back up the stairs, noticing the sound of voices from the bedroom as he climbed. He was too distracted to worry about alerting them to his presence, but he didn't mean to eavesdrop either. It was his own name that made him stop and take note. He stood outside the door, one hand holding the tray, the other on the handle.

Simon and Brendan were talking.

**AN: Reviews are always appreciated! **


	47. Chapter 47

**Sorry about the wait, and thanks to everyone who did review. Hope you're still enjoying this!**

"Ask Ste if you don't believe me, Brendan," he heard Simon say, a desperate edge to his voice, "Rhys was on the door. It was only five minutes so I could have a fag. You know I would never have let that man in. You know that!"

Ste heard Brendan grunt, "Steven was with me, he can't vouch for ya."

curious, Ste leant closer to the door, listening intently. He wondered if Brendan would blame Simon after all. There was no real reason to, surely?

"No, but he will tell you that I have a break at about that time every night," Simon argued, earnestly, "Of course I'd have told you if any of that lot had tried to get in, I'd have locked the doors to stop them getting in, but Rhys wouldn't have known them, would he?"

"And that's precisely why you are on the door, and Rhys is behind the bar," growled Brendan.

"It was five minutes, Brendan!" protested Simon, "I know, the worst timed five minutes ever, and I'm really sorry, but…"

"You're sorry?!" growled Brendan, his tone at its most dangerous, and Ste considered going inside and stopping him trying to get up in case he tore the stitches, but his curiosity held him still, "I've been fucking stabbed, and you're sorry?"

"I know!" cried Simon, "But I didn't know it would happen. Everyone needs a toilet break sometimes."

"I thought you said it was a fag break?" Brendan sneered.

"It won't happen again, Brendan." Simon insisted.

"Too right it won't," said Brendan, firmly, "because you're sacked. Get the fuck out of my city!"

"Brendan!" Simon tried to protest, but Brendan didn't let him.

"You're a liability, Walker," the Irishman stated, firmly, "I should have done it before. After the first time you messed up..."

"Are we really still on that Brendan?" Walker tutted, like Brendan was being ridiculous, "Did you see Ste last night, Brendan? Running around, getting people to help you, looking after you, looking at you like the sun shines out of your arse and the world would end if you died? That boy wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me. He'd still be avoiding you like the plague!"

"He nearly ran away screaming thanks to you!" Brendan snapped.

Ste's eyes were probably wider than the plates he held. What had Simon done that had terrified him?

"It worked, didn't it?" said Walker, with frustration, "he would not have listened to you any other way. Don't pretend you're innocent. I'm not the one who scared the shit out of him!"

"You are on thin ice, Walker!" growled Brendan, voice low and threatening.

"Oh, you're even more terrifying than usual when you're bed bound, Brendan."

Ste was almost furious at the mocking tone in Simon's voice. How dare he talk to Brendan like that? He wouldn't be bed bound forever, but Brendan didn't respond.

"Look, I'm still here, aren't I?" Simon continued, tone kinder, "If I was just after easy money, would I have stayed after that? Would I have carried you here? Would I have lifted a finger to keep you alive?"

Brendan grunted, "I ain't paid you, yet..." he said, darkly.

"And the club's easy pickings! Come on, if I showed up now, no one'd stop me, I could take what I wanted, what you owe me and more, but I'm not doing that. I'm here. You can trust me, Brendan."

Ste didn't want to listen to any more. He shoved the door open and stepped inside, staring at the two men.

They looked surprised and a little sheepish to see him, and his face must have shown the sense of fury he felt at what he had overheard. Simon, who had been leaning on the bed, stood up straight and backed off. Brendan, thankfully still in the bed, just looked at Ste worriedly.

Ste decided not to speak until he knew what to say. He took the food to the bed and put the tray down on the sheet beside Brendan.

"Steven…" Brendan started.

"Yes," said Ste, sharply, as though daring him to continue.

"What did you hear?" asked Simon, his voice betraying his concern at being caught out.

Ste ignored the question, trying to be cold to him, but the answer would have been 'too much'. He looked between them, but failed to make eye contact with either. He tried to get to the bit that had upset him the most.

"You knew someone might hurt you?" he asked Brendan.

"No," said Brendan, "I thought he wouldn't dare."

"But you knew someone wanted to?" Ste repeated angrily.

Brendan put his head on one side, "Yeah, 'cause no one's tried to kill you recently."

Ste's lip quivered. He couldn't put his finger on why this was different. Probably because Brendan had known about all that, but for some reason Brendan didn't trust Ste with stuff like this. Because Ste was a weakling. But now was not the time to get into Ste's own insecurities.

"You," he said turning on Simon. "You knew he was in danger?"

"No," said Simon, looking at the floor.

"Then why's he blaming you?" Ste demanded.

Simon looked at Brendan, questioningly.

"I wasn't," said Brendan.

"Don't give me that!" snapped Ste, suddenly furious at all the lies. "You just sacked him!"

Brendan grunted, looking down at the sheets, and to Ste it felt like he was talking to Leah when she'd been naughty. Simon, too, was avoiding his gaze, scuffing his foot like a child being told off.

"I can't believe how childish you're being!" Ste snapped, "Just tell me what's going on!"

Simon was the first to break.

"The other day we robbed some people," he said, tiredly, "they were a bunch of bastards who'd robbed a few punters when they came out of the club. It was becoming bad for business, and Brendan just wanted to teach them a lesson."

"Why didn't you go to the police?" asked Ste, "if you knew who they were?"

"Because Brendan's been getting a reputation as a grass," said Simon simply.

Brendan ground his teeth loud enough for Ste to hear. "Stop that," Ste scolded his lover, "eat your breakfast," he turned back to Simon, "So you decided to get back at them. How?"

Simon fidgeted, hands in pockets. "We wanted to show them they couldn't mess with Brendan and get away with it. So we did over their base."

"But it didn't go well?" Ste prompted, remembering the argument he'd seen outside the club that Sunday.

"It went fine," said Brendan, "but thanks to Simple Simon over there, they knew exactly who had done it."

"I had to improvise!" cried Simon, "it wasn't my fault!"

"And then he let one of those bastards into my club with a knife!" Brendan growled.

Simon gave up on Brendan and looked at Ste, pleadingly, "But I wasn't at the door, Ste! I told you, it was Rhys. God!" He ran his hand over his face with exhaustion, "I knew I should have gone last night."

"No!" snapped Ste. This news made it all the more important that Simon stayed. What good was Ste if a knife wielding maniac returned, intent on killing Brendan? Or if he attacked the club while Cheryl was alone? "No!" he said again, trying to sound more calm and rational.

"Yes!" said Brendan, "Yes, he can fucking well go! He's not going anywhere near my business!"

"And what good'll that do, Brendan?!" snapped Ste, "what are you actually gonna do if they come back? And what if they go after Cheryl next time?"

Brendan glowered at him, "It's my business," he protested.

"And you're not going near it until you are strong enough," Ste ordered, "You need Simon!"

"I do not need that cockney bast..."

"Yes, you do!" snapped Ste. "Unless you have a great line of people you can trust, you are going to forgive Simon for his mistakes because you've got not fucking choice. Now eat your breakfast!"

Brendan glared at him, stuck between wanting to eat the food in front of him and wanting to disobey Ste. Ste took pity on him, and leant forward. "If you eat it, I can make it worth your while," he whispered, eyes darting suggestively to Brendan's groin, hoping that the promise would help Brendan accept.

Brendan's scowl froze when he caught onto Ste's meaning and glanced down at the food. Then he took a handful of bacon and shoved it into his mouth.

"I ain't happy about this," he said through his mouthful of food.

"I know," said Ste, "but Simon's right, he could have nicked anything he wanted yesterday, he could have finished you off while I was at the hospital, he's not out to hurt you. He just made a couple of mistakes."

"Exactly," said Simon, unnecessarily.

Ste gave him a glower, but repeated himself. "He's made mistakes, but you can trust him."

Brendan gave Simon a suspicious glare. "He fancies you, though."

Ste flushed. Even twelve hours ago he would have denied it vociferously. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be a lie or sound as childish as Brendan just had, and Simon offered no helpful denials, so Ste leaned forward and put his lips against Brendan's. Simon's possible crushes were irrelevant. Ste had all he could possibly want by being with Brendan. After a few moments of sweet, bacon-flavoured union of lips, Ste pulled away, hoping he'd made his meaning clear.

Brendan met his gaze, and gave a satisfied nod, and shoved more food into his mouth, Ste understood that as an acceptance of Ste's message.

"So, we need to tell Cheryl what happened," said Ste, matter of factly.

"Nope," said Brendan through bacon.

"She's going to notice you ain't at the club, Brendan!" Ste insisted, "And wouldn't you want to know if she was hurt?"

Brendan gulped down his mouthful, "Not the same," he said. "Tell her I've gone to visit the boys in Ireland."

"It is the same," Ste pouted "And I'm crap at lying."

Brendan shrugged, "Get simple Simon to do it then, he's had loads of practice."

"Or we could just tell her the truth, so she can visit ya and look after ya?" Ste suggested.

"No," Brendan repeated, and Ste groaned and gave up.

"Fine," he said, "can you tell her, then?" he asked Simon.

"Yeah," said Simon, quietly, "sure."

"Thanks," Ste replied, turning back to Brendan and giving him a doubtful look. "I don't agree with keeping it from Cheryl, and if I think you're getting worse, you know I'll have to tell her?"

Brendan shoved more food into his mouth, angrily. He obviously hadn't not been in control for a very long time, and he didn't really know how to handle it.

Ste pushed his luck, with a smirk, kind of enjoying this power over Brendan, "So that means no getting out of bed before you're ready, no trying to do stuff on your own, and doing as you're told, alright?"

Brendan gave him a flat stare, "When I can walk again, you're not going to be able to feel anything below your waist for a week."

Ste flushed and smiled. "When you get better," he said.

Brendan shoved another handful of breakfast into his mouth, clearing the plate. Ste wasn't certain if that wasn't worse than the comment, as all three minds flew back to what Ste promised to get Brendan to finish his food.

"I think that's my cue to leave," said Simon, jovially.

"Too right it is," said Brendan not looking away from Ste.

"Well, sorry to interrupt your reward, Brendan," said Simon, "but could you show me out, Ste? I assume we're locking doors behind people now?"

Ste must have been bright red, but he nodded, taking the now empty tray out too. He followed Simon out of the room, then walked beside him down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" asked Ste.

"I'll go to the club and get the place ready to open," Simon said simply, "Cheryl will worry if we don't."

"Thanks," said Ste. "I need to stay with him."

"I know," said Simon. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and caught Ste's wrist. "He's wrong, you know," he said, amicably.

Ste frowned, "What, so, he can trust you?"

Simon rolled his eyes and smiled, "I'm not talking about that."

Ste looked at him expectantly, "What then?" he prompted.

Simon let go of Ste's wrist to put his hands in his pockets and looked at Ste with his head on one side. "I don't fancy you," he said, eventually.

Ste let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Oh," he said, immeasurably relieved. That made everything so much simpler. Simon was working for Brendan, was loyal to Brendan, and Ste had nothing to worry about on that score.

Simon took a step forward, putting his head straight, and when he spoke, his voice was urgent and honest, "I think I might be falling in love with you," he added, not caring about Ste's response.

Ste gaped like a fish, and Simon's gaze fell to the floor.

"Don't worry," he said, with a nervous laugh, "I'm not going to jump you or anything. It's not like that. It's just that every time I see you I think you're a bit more amazing."

Ste's mouth was open, his jaw hanging uselessly low.

"I know you're not there, you don't feel that way," Simon said, hurriedly, "but Brendan'll mess it up again soon. You know he will. He's not capable of anything else. And I can look after you Ste. You and your family."

"I'm not a girl," Ste said, "I don't need looking after."

"I know," said Simon, "I'm doing a really bad job of this, aren't I? I just mean, I'm a good man, Ste, and maybe… I don't know. One day, maybe, you might want that."

"I…" Ste stumbled, "I don't…"

"I know," repeated Simon, though Ste didn't even know what he was about to say. "Look, just… just think about it."

He turned to go out the door, but took one last glance back when his hand lay on the handle, his expression sad. Ste looked down, too worried that he could scare Simon off now. Brendan still needed Simon, and Ste couldn't let him to leave the city, but he almost didn't dare look at him either.

"I'm sorry," Simon said suddenly, and swooped forward. He kissed Ste softly on the lips. It was demanding but not rough, powerful but not forceful. It was a very good kiss, and Ste almost submitted to it.

It was over quickly. Both Ste and Simon pulled away. Ste stared worriedly at the ground, and Simon stepped back. "Sorry," he said again, and slipped out of the front door almost as silently as a cat, leaving Ste alone with his worried thoughts.

**AN: Reviews make me happy which makes me write. x**


	48. Chapter 48

**Sorry it's been so long since I updated. It's been one of those weeks for one reason or another. But here is another instalment, and I am working on the next, and will try to not let it be so long.**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I love to hear what you guys think!**

Ste found himself standing outside Brendan's bedroom door before he realised he was still holding the empty tray. It didn't seem relevant to anything, so he leant it against the wall outside the door. Then he closed his eyes and leant on the wall on the other side of the door, and tried to get his head together.

Surely Simon's feelings were irrelevant? Ste didn't feel the same, so Simon would just have to get over it. Ste was much more interested in the man in the room behind him. Wasn't he?

Simon had just told him he was falling in love with him. Not only had Brendan never said anything like that and was never like to, he'd been furious with Ste for suggesting love might be a part of them and what they shared. Ste had said it too soon, in the midst of a lust-filled haze, but he had no doubt of its truth. If last night had shown him anything it was that. He loved Brendan.

Not Simon, Brendan. Simon's feelings were not going to change that. Once, if he hadn't met Brendan, he would certainly have been tempted. If he was honest with himself, he was still tempted. Simon was fun, he had an easy charm and a disarming smile, and was a bloody good kisser. And Simon wasn't currently held together by stitches. A life with him would be fun, warm, happy...

But life without Brendan was unimaginable. He was being stupid even thinking about Simon. So what if Brendan was never going to declare his love, what more could Ste even want than what they had? Sex limited only by stamina, obvious caring, a mutual desire to protect and look after each other. There was nothing else people like them could have, and it was more than Ste could possibly ask for. Words were just words. They had no real value.

And was the image of the three of them together that he somehow couldn't get out of his head bad or not? It was probably bad. He didn't want anyone touching Brendan.

He shook himself out of it. Brendan was waiting, and this was wasting time. He tried to clear his head and strode straight into the bedroom where a grumpy looking Brendan was still sat on the bed.

"You took your time," he greeted.

"Yeah, well, not everything revolves around you, you know," Ste snapped, unkindly.

Brendan's moustache twitched, and Ste felt a new wave of guilt.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm just…"

"Not excited by the cripple," said Brendan, sourly, "Yeah, I get that."

"That's not what I was going to say!" Ste protested.

Brendan grumbled under his breath.

"Oi!" snapped Ste, "don't you dare suggest I don't want to be here! Don't you dare!"

"I'm not…"

"Have you got any idea what it's like to…"

Ste forced himself to stop, even though he wanted to scream the unfairness of it all at the top of his lungs. He'd got so close to losing Lucas and now Brendan could be taken from him. Two people he loved.

"Don't…" Brendan mumbled sadly, "don't get upset."

"I'm not upset!" snapped Ste, clearly upset.

Brendan actually smiled in his melancholy way.

"I'm not!" Ste repeated, trying to sound more convincing.

"Alright," said Brendan, "if you say so."

"I do!" Ste insisted, failing in his efforts to not pout.

Brendan smiled at him. Then he carefully pushed the covers lower on his good side. "You wanna get in, Steven?" he asked, gently. Ste couldn't manage to hold the sulk. He nodded and obeyed the warm desire in the pit of his stomach that wanted nothing more, and instantly got into the inviting covers, and snuggling as close to Brendan as he dared so as not to hurt him. Brendan managed to grasp his hand.

The silence fell between them again, Ste staring at Brendan's too tired, too pale face. It was wrong to see him so damaged, so still. Brendan should be a lion, crushing an insect like the man who'd hurt him between his thumb and finger, not lying weak in a bed. The bastard wouldn't have got a look in if he hadn't taken them by surprise, they both knew that. And it couldn't last forever. Brendan would get up and destroy them in days.

Ste had to believe that.

"I'm going to be a shit patient, you know," Brendan grumbled after a while.

Ste smiled, "I know," he said, "you're a right grumpy bastard, sometimes."

"Hmm," said Brendan, "but I'm going to be even grumpier bastard if I don't get to fuck you soon."

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Ste, "not until you're better."

"How am I going to get better if I don't get a reason to, eh?" Brendan complained.

Ste smiled, "That's your reason to get better. So we can fuck again."

Brendan scowled back at him, "Well it's a long time to wait, I think I might forget why it's worth it."

Smirking, Ste replied, "Then I'll have to give you little reminders."

He touched his lips carefully to Brendan's shoulder, feeling goose pimples erupt where the contact was made. He wriggled down the bed so his lips could trace their way, nibbling and kissing, down Brendan's arm. Brendan's other hand came to reach his head, but Ste lifted his head, and knocked the hand away.

"No," Ste scolded with a cheeky grin, "you try to move and I'll have to stop, in case we hurt you."

Brendan groaned, but put his hand down again. Ste reached the hand of the arm he was attacking. He kissed it.

The covers had been knocked down to somewhere around their ankles, but for some reason Brendan was still wearing his trousers from the night before. Ste frowned at them for getting in the way, and started on the fly. He slowly revealed the pale skin beneath and he kissed each new inch he discovered gently and lovingly. When the fly was all the way down he pulled out Brendan's cock and inspected it, appreciating the size, the beauty. Subconsciously, Ste wet his lips, ready for it. He placed his hands gently on Brendan's hips and took the cock into his mouth.

"Stop," said a quiet voice.

Ste looked up and stared. Did Brendan not like this? Was this not what he wanted?

Brendan was looking flushed, and stared at him with wide eyes and tight lips. It took a long moment for Ste to realise what was wrong.

He'd taken control. Brendan was already feeling weak and scared, and Ste had given him an order and was leading the activities. Even the hands on his hips must have felt controlling to someone like Brendan. Normal people might not have cared, might even have liked what Ste was doing, but Ste knew Brendan better. He was at his absolute weakest, his movements could only be small, and he knew anything sudden or exerted could tear his stitches and reopen the wound. He remembered what Brendan had said on that day, about being OK when he knew he could stop it at any moment, but right now he didn't know that.

But he could. Ste could show him that. He took his hands and mouth off of Brendan.

"You can trust me," he whispered, moving away from Brendan's legs, and lying back down on the bed beside him. "I'll never even want you to do something that you don't want just as much."

Brendan's expression was still guarded, still uncertain. Ste bit his lip, and took Brendan's hand, gently stroking the skin on the back with his thumb in small circles.

"I trust ye," breathed Brendan, "I do, it's just…" He trailed off, so Ste nodded his understanding.

"It's OK," he said. They lay in silence, neither fulfilled, neither satisfied, but neither complaining. It was still early, and Ste was definitely still in the mood.

"How about," said Ste, "I only do exactly as you tell me?"

Brendan looked at him and snorted. "Yeah, that''ll work," he said, jokingly.

"OK, so I find that difficult, but it might be fun," Ste crooned, "and it looks to me like you're keen enough."

It was true. Even under the heavy blankets, Brendan's erection was still clear to see. It hadn't waned with the drama. Ste's own was pressing against his trousers, reminding him that he wouldn't say no to anything right now.

"Let's see how well you manage it, then," Brendan suggested quietly, "I give it two minutes."

Ste smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"Sit up," Brendan ordered. His voice was firm, but not harsh, and Ste smiled before he obeyed, sitting up, and shifting down the bed so he was in Brendan's easy line of sight, and looked at Brendan for further orders.

Brendan inspected him thoroughly, and Ste bit his lip nervously.

"Take off your shirt."

Swallowing down his nerves, Ste started on his buttons, one at a time. His breathing was heavy before he got to the bottom of the garment, revealing his chest, and pulling it off. He instantly felt vulnerable, exposed. His ugly ribs must be protruding, his concave stomach simply ugly. He crossed his arms over his body.

"Don't hide yourself," said Brendan, instantly.

"But…" Ste protested, awkwardly.

"Show me," Brendan interrupted, his voice making it a clear order. Ste hesitated a moment, but followed the instruction, shoving his hands by his sides. He was sure his face was flaming red and he barely dared look at Brendan.

Brendan moaned, and when Ste made eye contact, he would have compared the look Brendan gave him with one a starving man would give a roast dinner. When he spoke again, his voice was croaky with desire.

"The rest," he managed, "get the rest off."

Ste complied, nervously, clumsily, trying to wriggle out of the clothes without accidently nudging Brendan. When he was naked, again he felt the need to hide his body, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Stop hiding," Brendan ordered instantly, "I want to see you."

Ste shifted uncomfortably, but knew he had to conquer these feelings. Maybe, just maybe, If he could show Brendan he could handle the self-consciousness and his dislike of orders, maybe Brendan could begin to give up control. Maybe. Some of the time. Not all the time. Ste was looking forward to him being in control again. But every once in a while it would be fun.

Brendan continued to look at him like he was edible. "God, you're stunning."

Ste scowled at him, but didn't protest. He didn't want Brendan to try to move; memories of the hand job and fuck Brendan had given him last time they'd discussed Ste's views on his own body were still some of Ste's favourites, but a perfect example of the too strenuous activity Ste was trying to avoid.

"Touch yourself," Brendan ordered.

Ste hesitated again, wracked with nerves. He assumed Brendan had wanted Ste's mouth on him, and he felt a lot more on display right now than he'd expected.

"I want to watch," said Brendan, "touch yourself."

Swallowing, Ste let his hands drop to his lap. He could do this, and he was going to make a show of it too, for Brendan's entertainment. He ran his fingers over his thighs, spreading his legs wide, trying to give Brendan a good view.

"Touch your chest," Brendan interjected, "slowly."

Ste moved one hand, feeling the thinness of his body.

"Higher," instructed Brendan, "your nipples."

Ste smiled shyly. He'd never felt more ridiculous, yet strangely, also turned on. It was the way Brendan was still looking at him, devouring him with his gaze. It was going straight to Ste's groin, and the feeling of his own fingers on his nipples was helping that.

"Good boy," purred Brendan, and Ste spotted Brendan's own hand travelling downwards.

"Wouldn't you rather I was touching you?" Ste asked.

"All in good time," Brendan breathed, "keep that hand there, but move the other."

"Where to?" asked Ste, his breathing getting increasingly erratic.

"To your cock."

Ste took a deep breath to steady himself before he obliged. Brendan's eyes were now glued to his cock, too. "Stroke it," he ordered. Again Ste obeyed, trying desperately to persuade himself he could resist throwing himself at Brendan. His hand worked gently on his organ, and he could do little but stare at Brendan and imagine it was his hands touching him. His excitement built, growing in his groin and his belly, he bit his lip but it failed to stop the moan escaping. His hand moved faster, harder, the sight of Brendan's lust intensifying his own. "Oh God," Ste moaned. Brendan' echoed him with appreciation, and Ste's hand sped up.

"Stop," Brendan suddenly called, and that was harder to comply with than anything Brendan had said before, but Ste somehow managed it. He dragged his hand away, and closed his eyes against the frustration.

"Kiss me!" Brendan gasped, "Steven, kiss me!"

His eyes flying open, Ste scampered up the bed on hands and knees and brought their lips together, desperately. "Please," he begged, in between kisses, "please…. I need…"

"I know," Brendan whispered, and he took Ste's cock in his own hand. Ste gasped, and kept his face close to Brendan's, as the hand moved with a beautiful precision, that left Ste's brain a soggy mess. "Come for me, Steven," Brendan whispered, "come for me."

"Brendan!" Ste groaned. He wanted to stop the flood, to bring Brendan with him, "Brendan, please!"

"Come, Steven," Brendan repeated and Ste couldn't have disobeyed if he tried. He shuddered and came, collapsing as he did, only just managing not to fall on Brendan. His body shook with his pleasure, and his eyes rolled, and when he came back to himself, Brendan still had that look of need in his eyes.

"Stay like that," Brendan ordered, "exactly like that." And Ste realised the game wasn't over. Brendan's hand was no longer on Ste. It had returned to his own cock, which it was now working expertly. Ste wanted to beg to touch it himself, to bring Brendan that same pleasure he'd just experienced, but he instinctively knew Brendan would say no. So he lay still, feeling sated and in love and expressing both with his eyes. His legs were dangling open, his arms as floppy as string and his body useless on the bed, and Brendan liked it. Ste watched the beautiful man bring himself to orgasm finding himself jealous of Brendan's fingers.

And there was something melancholy when it was done. Brendan was still flat on the bed, still broken, and Ste's problems were flooding back to him. He wanted to stay, to pull the covers over them both and shut out the world, but he suspected he couldn't. Brendan's whisper confirmed that far too soon.

"I need you to go to the club."

Ste didn't want to. He didn't want to leave Brendan, he didn't want to face Simon, he didn't want to pretend these people having a good time was anything like important when the love of his life was damaged.

"I need you to check on Simon," Brendan continued, "I don't trust him."

"I thought you were over that," Ste replied, trying to avoid voicing his own problems with going to the club. Brendan would hold no sympathy for Ste's wish to stay by his side, and Ste didn't dare tell him why Simon was now the last person he wanted to see.

"I am," replied Brendan, "but I still think he's a twat."

Ste rolled his eyes.

"I don't need you to stay all night," Brendan urged, "I just need you to check everything's normal."

"And if Cheryl asks me about where you are?"

"Why would she?" Brendan asked, "She doesn't know about this."

Ste frowned. It still didn't feel right.

"Steven, you're the only person I can rely on," said Brendan quietly, "please?"

Ste had to accept.

**Thanks for reading and taking the time to review!**


	49. Chapter 49

**I know initially this story had lots and lots of parallels with the series, but now that Ste and Brendan's story on the show is over (for the time being) I probably will go to the same places they did less and less often, as you can probably guess from the Ste/Walker interaction. They should have gone there in the show but didn't, so now I can do as I like, risking alienating readers or not. Again, check out the reviews, you all want such different things, I can't promise to go in any particular direction.**

**Also remember how much I enjoy being misleading before you panic about the above.**

**Thanks to all you lovely reviewers! Enjoy!**

Trying to imagine the club without Brendan was like trying to imagine the seaside without the sea, thought Ste as he made his way to Chez Chez doubtfully. All he seemed able to imagine was Jacqui and Theresa sat around not doing much, then getting an attitude with any unfortunate customers who had the nerve to ask to be served. If that were the case, Ste wasn't sure there was anything he could do. He worried he might find Cheryl pulling her hair out with stress, as drunken yobs made the club a miserable mess.

Thankfully, the reality was nowhere near so dire. Jacqui and Rhys were serving in the lower bar with no fuss, and Ste assumed Theresa was on the first floor with Cheryl. The noise was loud but normal, and Ste was pretty sure it was all running smoothly. There was even someone doing some washing up, so Ste wondered to the front to check on Simon.

The doorman had just greeted a man in a suit, and was ushering him in when he spotted Ste. He nudged the man in the right direction before greeting Ste with his trademark "Hallo."

Trying not to mislead Simon at all about his feelings, Ste didn't answer but smiled at him gently and went straight to business. "How's it all going?" he asked.

"What, Brendan still not trust me?" asked Simon with a grin, as he shoved his hands back in his pockets to check for further arrivals.

"It's not that…" Ste tried to argue, but Simon ignored the lie and merely grinned at him.

"It's alright," he said, "I understand him not trusting me. I am lying to him. Just not about what he thinks I'm lying about."

Ste looked at the floor, "I best go check on Cheryl," he said, and turned to go up the stairs.

"Wait, Ste," Simon called, "I'm sorry."

"OK," Ste replied without stopping.

Simon didn't give up. "Ste, stop."

"I should really get on," Ste called over his shoulder as he reached the first step, trying to minimise the interaction.

"I've found the man who did it," Simon replied in a voice so quietly Ste almost didn't hear the words.

He froze on the second step and turned back to Simon. "The man who hurt Brendan?"

Simon nodded, "Yeah, I wanted to make it up to you both, for those stupid things I said earlier, so I checked out the place the gang meet, and there he was, asleep on an old mattress on the floor."

Feeling a surge of anger, Ste growled, "He didn't run away?!" The obnoxious bastard thought he could just do something like that and get away with it?

"He works for the brothers," said Simon, shaking his head, "he wouldn't dare run away without their permission."

"But he'd dare to stab Brendan?!" Ste gasped.

"On their orders, I know that for certain," said Simon, "This guy, he's just a pawn, a parasite."

Ste was growing angrier and angrier. "He stabbed Brendan because someone told him to?!"

"I know," Simon bit his lip, "I didn't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Ste asked.

Simon took a step closer to Ste, his voice low, urgent, "He tried to kill my boss, my friend. Should he be allowed to try again, Ste?"

Ste swallowed. He knew where Simon was going, and fear wasn't the only reaction it sparked.

"Or should he find out what happens to someone who threatens us? Who hurts us?"

Ste's eyes were wide as the sun, "You mean… kill him?"

Simon seemed to lose confidence, "I don't know."

Mad thoughts flew through Ste's head. He'd killed before to save himself, and he would kill to save Brendan, he was sure of it. But would killing this man, little more than a boy really, would that really be the same as saving Brendan? He wasn't trying to kill him right now.

Simon seemed to read his thoughts, "He will try again, Ste, and soon, before Brendan is strong again. He or other minions of those bastards he works for. You know they don't dare wait for Brendan to be whole and take his own revenge. They have to try to finish the job, and you and me, Ste, we are the only people standing in the way of them succeeding."

Ste felt panicked, furious and scared, worried and hate filled. Did they dare do as Simon was suggesting? He couldn't just stand by and let them try again, could he?

Simon got closer, voice low and heavy. "We have to stop that bastard, Ste," he continued, "we have to stop him trying again, and warn any other bastards who might try to finish the job, as well. We have to show them that Brendan is protected."

Ste breathed hard. Did he dare? Could he take a life? Was he brave enough?

What would he do to protect Brendan? He did not doubt for a moment that Brendan would do at least the same for him.

"When?" he asked, surprised when his voice sounded nothing like his. It was like a child was asking the question.

Simon let out a nervous breath. "Closing time," he said, "meet me here."

Ste nodded, "Do you have a plan? And like, a weapon or something?"

"I can get a weapon," Simon answered with confidence.

His breathing was ragged, his heart racing. Could he? Was he really thinking about it?

He nodded, before turning and nearly running up the stairs. His whole body was shaking. What had he just agreed to do? Was he mad?

He didn't have time to think about it. Before he knew it he was on the first floor.

He'd never been there when there were people present before, and he didn't feel at all comfortable. These people were unlike any he'd ever seen before. He'd thought Sir Alexander was expensively dressed, but some of these people made him look like a scruff, and Ste look like a nasty smudge on the floor that someone had stepped on.

It wasn't silent though, nor genteel as Ste had always imagined aristocrats to behave. In fact, apart from the dress and a slight tinge to the accents Ste could make out, it was very similar to the floor below, though slightly few customers. After a while he noticed another difference. Instead of standing behind the bar and allowing punters to come to them, Theresa and Cheryl and a few other girls were swooping about the room with trays of drinks, stopping with groups of customers at tables and giggling at jokes. The jokes Ste heard were the same, thinly veiled attempts to flirt with each other and the barmaids, someone played the piano in the corner, though most people weren't listening. Thankfully, it all seemed to be running like clockwork.

Deciding he wasn't needed, Ste turned to go.

"Ste!" gasped Cheryl, "what are you doing up here?"

He glanced back to see her picking her way through customers to speak to him. He turned to her fully and nervously. "Er, just..." he decided not to lie, "Brendan asked me to check you were OK."

Cheryl frowned, "Brendan did?"

"Er, yeah, before he went," Ste replied. He'd hoped for a simple 'Oh that's nice,' or 'don't be silly, I can look after myself'. Instead, Cheryl turned into a wild cat.

"So he found time to tell the doorman and a barman, but not his own sister?" Cheryl snarled, acidly.

Panic surged through Ste, somehow more so than the thought of revenging Brendan's attack. "Er…" he said.

"And while we're at it," snapped Cheryl, "maybe you could fill me in on who the hell this woman is?"

"What?" said Ste, very curious indeed as to who any woman was when it came to Brendan.

"And what the hell he's doing in Scotland?"

What the hell was she talking about? Ste stuttered, "I don't…"

"He's left Eileen, hasn't he? The coward's run off and not even told us!"

"No!" Ste cried.

"Then where is he?!" Cheryl snapped, like it was somehow Ste's fault.

Ste wanted to say he'd gone to Eileen, like they'd agreed, but he found he couldn't lie. The next best thing would be to say he didn't know, but the words wouldn't come. He couldn't let Cheryl think Brendan had gone off with some woman, though he had no idea where that idea had come from. But he was a terrible liar. She would see through anything he said in a moment.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned, trying to escape as quickly as possible.

Cheryl's shrill voice rang easily in his ears, "Steven Hay, you get back here!"

He hesitated, "I gotta get on, me," he said, over his shoulder, "There's loads to do."

Cheryl's voice became dangerous, "You know exactly where he is, don't ye?!"

"No!" squeaked Ste, voice quivering as he knew Brendan wouldn't have moved from the bed where he left him.

Cheryl crossed her arms. "Who's this woman then?" she demanded, "Some Scottish harlot?"

"I don't know!" Ste cried, honestly this time.

"And what am I supposed to say to Eileen when she comes back?" Cheryl continued, voice harsh and probing, making Ste even more panicked, "I assume she is coming back?"

"I don't know, Cheryl," Ste pleaded, "I just told him I'd make sure you were OK."

Cheryl studied him for a long moment, and Ste spent most of it certain she'd seen right through him, into the bedroom in his mind and even the sex from this morning. "Hmm," she said, eventually, "well he's got some explaining to do when he gets back."

"Right," said Ste, daring to hope that was the end of it.

"And if I find out you've been lying to me…"

Ste's eyes widened. She couldn't sack him, could she? For doing as Brendan told him? She didn't elaborate, but let the threat hang in the air, and turned slowly and sedately back to the partying guests, many of whom had turned to watch the interchange.

And where the hell did she get the idea Brendan had gone off with some woman to Scotland?

"Er, Cheryl," he tried, "who told ya he's gone to Scotland?"

"Simon," said Cheryl, "the only one who's bothered telling me anything." And suddenly there was a sob in her voice. "Oh, Ste, I'm sorry, I just don't understand why he has to hide things from me, you know?" She covered her eyes with one hand, and a loud sob fell from her mouth.

Ste stood, feeling stupid, but already wondering what the hell was wrong with Simon. They were going to have some strong words later.

"Cheryl, what's the matter?" Theresa had wondered over, her eyes wide with alarm. "Why's she so upset?" she asked Ste.

"Er…" said Ste.

"Oh it's that brother of mine again," sobbed Cheryl.

"Well, you can't cry out here, the punters'll see!" hissed Theresa, "Ste, take her to the office or something!"

"Er…" said Ste.

"Oh, thanks love," said Cheryl, taking his arm, and starting to walk to the office via the back stairs. Regretting even coming up the stairs, Ste let her lead the way in sullen silence.

Bloody Brendan, making him lie. Bloody Simon, messing the lie up so spectacularly.

They went down the back stairs, Ste trying to think up how he was going to be comforting and convincing in a lie he was not really in certain of anymore.

Cheryl collapsed onto the chair when they got to the office and fell into real tears that terrified Ste almost as much as the knife wielding maniacs he was planning on confronting later that night. She buried her face in her arms on the table, and Ste felt like he'd been plastered to the floor.

"Err… do you want me to go?" he asked.

"Yes," said Cheryl, but it was followed quickly by "no!"

He fidgeted, hoping for some sort of hint about how to deal with your homosexual lover's crying sister.

"I just…." Cheryl sobbed, and lifted her head, "I just feel so lost, you know?"

It was a question he didn't know the best answer to, so he settled for a non-committal sound; "Hmm."

"I mean," Cheryl continued, "I thought me and Warren had something, you know? That we were going to get married, have loads of kids, move back to Ireland maybe…"

Ste was pretty sure Warren would rather have died than done any of that, but decided sharing that thought would be a bad idea. He tried to school his features into an expression of honest sympathy.

"And then, he turned out to be a thieving lying bastard," Cheryl continued with a miserable sob, "and I thought, you know, people make mistakes, Cheryl, but there'll be others. And I'll always have Brendan looking out for me. That's more than most girls have."

"You will, Cheryl!" Ste insisted, "He'll always look after you! He loves you!"

"I don't think he does, you know, Ste," she said, "every time I try and get him to spend time with me, even just a meal together, there's always something. And he doesn't tell me anything. Not who this woman is, not what on Earth's going on with that. You know I don't think he would even have told me about Eileen going if I hadn't invited myself over for tea."

Ste gulped. What if she invited herself to check on the house while Brendan was 'away'? What would she make of Ste and his family living there?

"And all this stuff with Danny! I mean, that man owns half the club and he's in prison for all sorts, and I know Brendan knows something!"

"He's probably trying to look after you, Cheryl." Ste tried.

"No, he's shutting me out!" cried Cheryl, "He doesn't want me to be part of his life. And this is it, isn't it? He's run off to Scotland and I'm never going to hear from him again!"

"Don't be silly, Cheryl!" Ste cried, alarmed by the misery in her voice, "Brendan wouldn't do that!"

"His marriage is over, he's run away with a woman I've never even heard of."

"No, Cheryl!"

"He's gone to a different country and didn't even tell me he was going!"

Ste could stand no more. "No he hasn't!" Cheryl's head was back in her hands the sobs coming thick and fast.

Ste's mouth reacted without input from his brain. "He's not gone away!"

Cheryl looked up. "What?"

Ste swore under his breath.

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	50. Chapter 50

**AN: Some people misunderstood the previous AN. I don't mean Stalker are definitely going to happen. This is a Stendan fanfiction, because Stendan are the best thing to happen to television in a decade. I meant there was never enough Stalker interaction on the show. It should have been a massive part of the storyline, but we didn't even get to see Walker lock him in a fridge. Stupid TV show. **

**I hope you're all still enjoying it! x**

Ste swore under his breath. What was he doing? Was he that pathetic that he couldn't keep one, admittedly quite enormous secret? He tried to hide it, "I mean, I don't know, I mean... he wouldn't go away, like, forever and not, you know, tell anyone, would he?" But he couldn't keep eye contact and Cheryl was glaring at him.

"You better start making sense, Ste Hay, or you will see a whole new side of me!" she threatened, and Ste knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Look, Cheryl," he tried, "he begged me not to tell ya."

"Tell me what?" Cheryl hissed

Ste fidgeted. If he told Cheryl, Brendan might hate him forever. It might even be enough for him to end it all. It wasn't like it would be Brendan's only reason to end things with Ste. He was very clear about not wanting Cheryl to know.

"Tell me what?" Cheryl repeated in a furious growl.

But then again, it wasn't fair to keep it from Cheryl. She was a grown woman who needed to know her brother's life was in danger. And not spend this time, when she could be helping to keep him safe, hating him. If, heaven forbid, Brendan didn't get better, she would hate herself forever. That wasn't fair. Surely.

Ste made his decision. "Right, he doesn't want you worrying, right?"

"I'm not worried," hissed Cheryl, "I'm furious!"

"Cheryl, he's …" Ste couldn't believe this was happening. He was breaking Brendan's trust, but Cheryl deserved to know, and surely it was better than her thinking he'd abandoned her? "He was stabbed."

Cheryl's face froze in the expression of pale lipped fury she'd been wearing since before Ste spoke, with only her eyes betraying that she had even heard his words. He wasn't sure if it was still fury or if it was turning slowly to shock.

"He's OK!" he cried, before her imagination could come up with anything even more awful than the truth, "well, he's not, obviously, but he's going to be. The nurse came and stitched him up, and …"

"Stabbed?" cried Cheryl. "Who stabbed him?"

Ste pictured the boy he'd been face to face with, who had done such a terrible thing, and who he was going to kill tonight. "I don't know," he said. It wasn't a lie.

"Where is he?" Cheryl asked, her face pure white, and her voice shaking.

"At his," Ste said, and suddenly spotted an excuse for his family's presence at the Brady house, which Cheryl was soon to discover anyway, "My Amy's looking after him. I was too but he asked me to check on you."

"I need to see him," Cheryl said, standing with determination.

Ste swallowed, "He made me promise not to tell you," he pleaded, "if you just show up, he'll…"

"Are you lying to me?" Cheryl demanded.

"No!" Ste protested.

"Because if you are, you will not only be fired, you will never work anywhere again, I will destroy you, do you understand?"

His sympathy for Cheryl waning, Ste stated the obvious, "I could never lie about something like that!"

"Then show me!" she demanded, storming out of the office. Ste followed, arguing meekly.

"Cheryl, he's going to furious with me! Please Cheryl, if he knows I told ya, he's gonna be so angry! I'll be lucky if he just sacks me. Cheryl, please, don't…"

But Cheryl wouldn't heed his words. She left the club by the back door, her face losing colour with her fear and her anger. The now familiar route to the Brady house seemed too short. The dread and the panic making the time rush past him at a grossly unfair speed. He could think of no way to stop her going straight to Brendan and telling him exactly how she knew. She wouldn't be put off now if Ste claimed to be lying. She was going to see her brother whatever Ste said or did now. It was just a matter of time before another massive obstacle stood between Ste and the man he loved.

But Ste had another decision to make right now. He couldn't stop Cheryl, but he still had to choose. Either he could go with her, into Brendan's bedroom, accept the incriminations, the anger, the betrayal Brendan would send his way, and suffer whatever implications Brendan was going to throw at him. There was a chance, if he went in, that Brendan would let him explain why he had done it. That he would forgive Ste.

It was a very slim chance.

Or he could just go back to the club once he'd let Cheryl in. Simon was expecting him. They had an important job to do, however much that job terrified Ste. Whatever Brendan's reaction to Cheryl finding out, it wouldn't change the way Ste felt about the man. It wouldn't stop him loving him, nor even regret loving him. And maybe, once Brendan knew what they had done, he would be grateful enough to forgive him. Should they all live that long.

Somehow the decision came easily. To Ste, confronting someone who had attempted murder still felt less terrifying than seeing Brendan angry with him again.

Cheryl didn't try to start anymore conversation, so when Ste got to the house and let her in, he didn't feel the need to explain why he wasn't following her up to Brendan. He shut the front door behind her and locked it again. Nobody had tried to break in since Danny's men had followed Ste, but that was before someone had tried to kill Brendan and the rules had changed. Security had never been so vital.

He had made the walk to Brendan's on full alert for followers or anyone looking even slightly suspicious, and went back to the club in the same manner. The sky had darkened to an angry shade of grey, and rain looked ready to burst from the heavens, as though God were ready to destroy his creation again, get rid of the lowlifes like Danny and his gang and Ste and Brendan, and start again with the innocent.

He went in the back door of the club, and just so he was doing something, he started serving beside Rhys. He paid little attention to the customers beyond which drinks they wanted, not to flirt, not to pass the time of day. He basically ignored Rhys, too, except for when they were in each other's way, and when closing time came, people seemed to melt as he approached them. Maybe there was something in his face that they didn't want to deal with; desperation, a misery, a fear that could have led to danger. Or maybe he was just lucky that night. The bar was cleared and empty before ten minutes were up.

They cleared the bars of dirties, and then, when the staff realised neither Cheryl nor Brendan were around to protest, they dumped the dirty cups and glasses by the sink before clearing off for the night. After they had gone, Ste stared at the pile waiting for Simon, hoping for the motivation to get some cleaned. No motivation came. None would until tonight was over and done with. He was under no illusions about his own strength and prowess. His plan may be to kill a man, but there was no guarantee the man wouldn't kill him.

Simon seemed to take his time arriving. To Ste it felt like he had waited alone for the man for half the night, and had he been less on edge he may even have fallen asleep. When Simon did finally arrive, Ste wasn't sure if he should be pleased or terrified that the older man looked as nervous as he felt.

When Simon's gaze landed on him, it was intense. "Are you ready?" he asked, all flirtation and fun gone, replaced by a serious forcefulness. All Ste could manage was a nod, which Simon took as full acceptance of the situation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife.

"This is for you," he said, pushing it into Ste's hand even while it dangled by his side. Ste almost rejected the object. He'd held plenty of knives before, for all sorts of jobs, but never knowing it was for this purpose. He forced himself to take the handle and look at the blade. Three inches long, it would be enough to kill if only he got close enough. He shivered at the thought.

"What about you?" he asked, his voice quiet and strangely dead.

Simon showed Ste a second knife, the same size as the one he'd given Ste. The sight filled Ste with further dread. His heart began to race. His whole body ached to run and hide under the covers beside Brendan. But that was not an option. Cheryl was there, and Brendan would hate him. And he needed to do this. He needed to protect the people cared about.

Simon must have seen the thoughts cross his mind. "Are you sure about this?"

Ste nodded. "I need to," he said, trying to explain, "for Brendan."

Simon's eyes seemed to glisten in the light from the last remaining gas lamp. "You'd risk your life for him?" he asked.

"I'd die for him," Ste replied, more easily than he thought possible.

Simon nodded, his gaze seeming to drop, but Ste didn't get to follow the emotions long as Simon turned on his heel to extinguish the last of the lamps. The darkness filled the room too quickly, leaving Ste blind until his eyes got to it. Simon must have recovered more quickly, because Ste was barely able to make out the shadow when Simon was already half way out of the door and into the dark alleyway beyond. Ste followed, groping for the steps so not to fall.

The night was black. Rain fell and splashed on the pavements, and the moon could be seen just faintly through a blanket of clouds. The sounds of horses and dogs, inane noises of everyday living, could still be heard, but quietly, like through glass. Simon was fidgety, He was striding along the pavement, but his hands kept moving, from resting in his pockets, to swinging by his sides to fidgeting with his jacket. It wasn't helping Ste feel less nervous or more prepared.

Far too soon, they arrived at a building. It was large and cavernous. "This is it," Simon whispered, "friendly place, isn't it?"

Friendly was the opposite of this place. It looked cold, impersonal and inhospitable, a great ghoul of a building. Ste was beginning to feel detached from everything around him. Simon's presence, the task ahead of him; it could all be happening to somebody else. His hands found the knife in his pocket, and gripped the handle.

"You can back out, you know." Simon was still by his side, still there, still supporting. Ste shook his head. He couldn't back out. If he did, they'd be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives.

"I'm ready," he replied, quietly.

**Reviews make my fingers type better!**


	51. Chapter 51

**Why is this story still going?! I hope it's interesting enough to keep you reading! Enjoy! Thanks for sticking with it! It means a lot.**

As the father of two small children and the son of a drunkard, who had grown up with a farm hand, Ste was used to bad smells. They were the norm in his life, as much in Liverpool as they ever were. But there was something about the air around the warehouse that made Ste want to bring up every scrap of food he had eaten that day. This was the opposite of a home. Simon had called it a base. Ste couldn't imagine ever choosing to step foot in a place like this without some dire need.

They made their way to a huge metal door. It loomed 10 feet high, and Ste wondered how they could possibly slip in unnoticed through such a monstrosity until Simon revealed a smaller door beside it. He pulled out some slim metal things that looked like knitting needles, which he slipped into the lock. Ste didn't question it, and waited until a soft clicking sound told them that the door was unlocked. Simon pulled it open, and stood back for Ste to lead in. Ste did just that, hoping the noise of the door hadn't alerted anyone to their presence.

The interior of the warehouse was no more welcoming than the exterior. The room they had just stepped into was cavernous, and the sound of their feet, even quiet steps, echoed angrily. Ste froze to the spot, listening intently for the sound of approaching people, or raised alarms. He heard only silence, followed by the light thud of Simon pulling the door closed behind them. Darkness filled the warehouse, disorientating and suffocating. Ste stood completely still, waiting for his eyes to adjust, but Simon didn't have the patience. He struck a match, ruining Ste's night vision, and lit a candle he must have brought with him. Ste blinked in surprise at the light.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, "they'll know we're here!"

He saw Simon shrug, unconcerned, "If they're in this room, they already know," he said, and Ste couldn't argue with that. His eyes leapt from shadowy corners to black cavernous window to under what he could see of long workers' tables. No human forms were visible, no sounds suggested the presence of people or even life. Even rats and mice seemed to have abandoned this building, and Ste did not like that one bit.

"Where was he?" Ste asked, his voice as quiet as he could make it, yet still it seemed to ring in this huge empty shell.

Simon pointed at a small door at the far end. His expression was guarded and concentrated, and for a foolish moment Ste had pictures of Simon locking him in that room. If Simon was true in his protestations of love, then this could all be a trap to steel Ste away from Brendan. This empty warehouse would be a perfect place to hold someone against their will. Ste dismissed the pictures instantly. He had no reason to think that Simon was even a little insane, and to do something like that, he would have to be completely mental. Besides, who would want to kidnap a useless skinny boy like Ste? Except for Brendan, apparently. No, all that Simon's 'love' was like to do today was make Simon a little more cautious with Ste's safety. That could only be a positive thing.

They crept across the stone floor, their footsteps sounding, to Ste, like he would imagine those of an elephant may sound. He hoped it was his imagination, sparked by the eerily silent space they were in and magnified by his own fears. He wished he could hear anything that might suggest they weren't alone, because Ste's whole body prickled with the belief that they were anything but.

He gripped the knife in his pocket, and pulled it out when Simon reached for the door. This was it. He was here to murder someone on the other side of that door. If his soul wasn't already lost to the sex and impure thoughts and theft and the man on the stairs, this was the one, truly unforgiveable sin, from which there was no turning back. Purposeful murder.

Simon looked at him expectantly, one hand on the door. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Ste nodded, hoping if he seemed ready he might begin to feel it. Simon took a moment to prepare himself and threw open the door.

The door led to a smaller room, much the same as the larger they were in. There were no windows, no lights and no furnishing except a bedraggled mattress on the floor. An empty bedraggled mattress. No lights, no signs of life, no people. The room was empty.

"Where is he?" asked Ste, newly terrified by the sight.

Simon shrugged non-committedly. In the pathetic light of the candle, Ste couldn't read his expression, could not tell if he was concerned or not.

"You said he was here!" Ste hissed, angrily.

"He must have woken up," Simon replied.

"Oh really?!" snapped Ste. "I would never have guessed if you hadn't pointed it out."

"Alright," said Simon, "keep your hair on."

Ste glared daggers at him, only more annoyed by the idea that the glare was wasted in the half light. "What do we do now then?" he growled.

Simon glanced around, "I don't know," he said.

"You don't…"

"How about looking for him?"

Ste did not like the sound of that. "What if we find lots of them?" He asked in a weak voice that would have shamed him had he enough presence of mind for such feelings.

"Well, that was always a risk," Simon sniffed, "are you sure you're up for this Ste?"

Ste checked around himself nervously. Did he just hear a faint rustling sound to their right?

"Cause if you're scared," Simon continued, "we can always just go."

"I ain't scared," Ste protested, a stab of annoyance almost making the statement true.

"Good," said Simon, giving him the candle, "because this wouldn't work if you left."

"What wouldn't work?" Ste asked.

Simon put a hand on Ste's back and gently shoved him into the smaller room. Ste's stomach somersaulted. Simon was mad. He was going to lock him in. To kidnap him.

He didn't. He followed Ste in and pulled the door too behind them.

"What ye doing?" Ste demanded when his heart quieted enough for him to think again.

Simon put a hand on Ste's mouth and a finger to his own lips. And very quickly it became obvious why. A loud crash told Ste the main door of the warehouse had been thrown open, carelessly. It was quickly followed by men's voices and the rumble of more than one pair of feet. Ste froze to the spot.

The voices were echoed, and men seemed to be talking over each other, making the words hard to pick out and make sense of, but Ste picked up on the atmosphere they created. It was up and excited, mixed with a manic anger, like there had just been a close fight. Ste hoped it had nothing to do with the Bradys or the club.

Laughter filled the air, cold and ugly like the warehouse itself, as if the place had infected even the positive parts of the people who inhabited it, and suddenly all Ste could see was the glow of the candle in his hand. That had to be shining under the door, alerting the newcomers to their presence. Unless they had brought their own lights. Ste stared at the door. He couldn't see any. Would extinguishing the candle now only alert them to the change?

The laughter and chatter didn't stop. It got nearer and nearer and finally Ste could see the new arrivals' light under the door. He let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding through his nose, now finally feeling Simon's closeness. His eyes were on Ste, and Ste could believe they'd never left him, even while Ste was panicking. Ste's heart was racing, and there was an intensity in Simon's eye that reminded Ste of Brendan. And Ste was scared. He stepped closer to Simon, to feel his presence and remind himself he wasn't alone. Simon's hand dropped from his lips to rest its comforting weight on Ste's hip.

The voices were still moving. Ste began to pick out words. Swear words, descriptions of violence, more laughter. He gripped his knife, ready to fight even if he went down.

Then suddenly the moment was gone. The voices had passed by, the light following them. Ste could still hear them laughing, but they had gone by the door without once looking in. He stepped back, ashamed of his own fears and reaction. Simon's hand dropped from his hip.

Another door slammed open and then closed again a few moments later. Ste had been so focused on the door he and Simon had been aiming for that he'd completely failed to notice any others. He listened intently. Had they all gone into another room?

Ste pulled Simon's hands away from his mouth. "Do you think we can go?" he asked, in the quietest whisper he could manage.

"Go?" Simon repeated.

Ste nodded. Of course go.

"We haven't done what we came here to do," Simon stated, simply.

That was true. A whole host of men were here, ready to harm the man Ste loved.

"But there's loads of them!" Ste protested.

Simon shook his head, "I counted four."

It sounded like more than that, but maybe it was just the echo. "That's still twice as many as us!" Ste pointed out, stating the obvious.

"But they don't know we're here," Simon argued, "We'll take them by surprise."

Ste breathed hard. Could that make the difference?

"Just… just the one who hurt Brendan?"

Simon nodded, "Of course," he said, "Unless we have to."

Ste felt impossibly cold. He couldn't believe he was here. He couldn't believe he hadn't run.

He nodded. For Brendan.

Simon moved away from him and put his ear to the door, listening for the others. He must have decided it was safe because he opened the door soon after.

No light was directly outside the room they'd hidden in, but Ste could see a soft glow from below a door a little way along the wall. Simon stepped back out into the large room and Ste followed. Simon leaned close to Ste.

"There's another door, a bit further along that corridor," he whispered, pointing at a dark hole in the wall that must be the corridor. "If we both go in that way, he could just run out through there."

Ste looked at him alarmed. "We can't split up!" he hissed.

"Just for a bit. Or it will all be for nothing," Simon put a reassuring hand on Ste's arm, "It'll be alright," he soothed, "You take this door, I'll go along there. When you hear me whistle, we both rush in and take them by surprise. Before they even know what's hit them, we'll take out the one who stabbed Brendan, and we'll be gone."

The one who stabbed Brendan. The monster who had tried to take the man Ste loved away from him. He was shaking, but he still held the knife.

"When you whistle," Ste whispered. It was a simple enough plan. Take out the one who stabbed Brendan.

"Good boy," whispered Simon, and was gone in moments, stalking down the dark corridor like a cat, leaving Ste to calm his own fears and try to get his shaking under control.

Was he mad? Was he even capable of this? He stepped closer to the door. Surely he was. This was necessary, for them all to live in safety.

He closed his eyes and counted, trying to get himself calm. It didn't work. He saw the boy's face as it had been on the night he'd stabbed Brendan, his eyes wide, terrified of what he'd had to do, skin pale, shaking like Ste was now. He might have even been younger than Ste.

Ste leant his head against the stone wall by the door. The laughter was still ongoing on the other side of the door, still tinged with spite and violence. They'd moved on to crass jokes, filthy ugly things that Ste wasn't sure he would have got, even if he had been in the mood to laugh.

He felt like praying, begging some God to somehow make this all alright, but the idea was laughable. No God would help a damned, homosexual, murderer like him. He was on his own.

Except suddenly he wasn't.

**Reviews are always appreciated.**


	52. Chapter 52

**Thanks to everyone who took the time to review! Here is a bit more as reward. Enjoy!**

It was the cry beside him that had alerted him to the presence of another person. His eyes shot open, and he felt stupid. Of course the gang weren't all inside that room. One had been running late, or was checking the area, or something. And that one had managed to sneak up on Ste, knife in hand. He was so close, he could have slit Ste's throat without Ste even noticing.

But Simon was already there, a hand round the stranger's neck. If he hadn't come back, Ste would be dead.

"Get the fuck off me!" the stranger shouted, as Simon bashed the knife from his hand.

A hesitation in the raucous noise beyond the door suggested the disturbance had been heard. Simon swore, then crashed the man's head against the stone wall of the warehouse. Ste couldn't tell if it had killed him because they were running before the man had even hit the ground, Simon's hand round Ste's wrist, but Ste didn't need to be told. His feet flew, pounding the paving beneath them, all plans abandoned and only their own lives mattering now.

The door was mercifully unlocked and in moments they were running the abandoned streets of Liverpool, losing grip on each other but not caring, no destination in mind, just the panic and the fear and the desperation smothering all other things. Ste's lungs ached for air, his legs felt wobbly enough to collapse beneath him, but he didn't dare stop, or even turn his head. He could think of nothing but feet and breath and escape, escape, escape.

When something caught his hand he fought it like a wild animal, hitting, scratching, kicking, punching, and when it pulled him closer he fought harder. It took time for him to recognise Simon's voice trying to penetrate his fear and panic, to realise they weren't surrounded, or trapped, he wasn't going to die right now, and when he did he clung back to Simon. They were out of there. He hadn't committed murder.

Simon had saved his life.

"It's OK," Simon whispered, "it's OK, they're not following us. We lost them."

Ste hoped more than believed that to be true, but there were no shouts or running feet to contradict the statement. Shameful tears were falling down Ste's face. His head was leaning into Simon, trying to hide them, and Simon held him, letting him calm, one hand on Ste's neck, the other on his lower back. They stayed like that for long moments, Simon's hands firm and reassuring. As long as Ste could feel them, he was alive. And they were nice; strong, comforting hands that reminded him of the ones he really craved.

He needed Brendan and he needed him now. He needed his hands, and his lips and his voice. He needed his overwhelming presence that made everything else seem inconsequential, and he needed his cock to show him he was alive and with him, and needed and desired. He pulled away from Simon, and felt Simon's reluctance to let him go when the hands took too long to release. It didn't matter. Simon would get over it.

He turned, ready to walk back through the city, back to Brendan's when he remembered. Cheryl was there. Brendan would know Ste let him down. He may have decided to end it already. The thought felt like a new crushing weight on his shoulders, dragging him to the floor, and he actually sat on the hard and dirty paving under the weight of it, unable to lift himself above it all.

He was so wrapped up in misery, he didn't notice for several minutes that Simon sat down next to him. He didn't comment on the move. Simon was probably trying to be helpful. But it reminded Ste whose fault it was he was stuck feeling like this, unable to return to Brendan's loving arms.

"Why did you tell Cheryl that Brendan had run away?"

Simon frowned. "I didn't," he said.

"You did!" Ste said, "Cheryl told me! And so I had to tell her the truth. And now he's gonna hate me! He's gonna be so angry, and it's all your fault!"

"Brendan was the one who told us to lie," Simon protested, "I was just trying to do as instructed."

"You were supposed to tell her he'd gone to see his wife!" Ste huffed, "but Cheryl thought he was running away with some woman."

Simon shrugged. "That's not what I said!"

"Don't lie!" Ste cried, even more furious that he was now denying it. Was he trying to make Brendan angrier with ste?

"Ste, I didn't say anything like that," Simon pleaded.

"Well, what did you say then?" Ste demanded, not really accepting the truth that he heard in the voice.

"What we said. That he was going to see his wife."

Frowning, Ste tried to think that through. Simon wasn't behaving like a liar. Could Cheryl have misunderstood? "And you used those exact words?" Ste asked.

"Er, I think I said 'Brendan said sorry he's not in but he had to go to Scotland to see Irene.'"

Ste put his head in his hands and groaned. "Eileen. In Ireland," he mumbled.

"What?" asked Simon.

Ste growled, "Brendan's wife is called Eileen, and she's in Ireland."

"Oh," said Simon, "I thought Cheryl's reaction was odd."

"You think?!" snapped Ste.

Simon looked bashful. "I didn't do it on purpose, Ste," he pleaded, eyes looking needy, but Ste was still too caught up in his own misery to care.

"He's gonna be so angry," Ste mumbled, thinking aloud, "he's gonna take it out on me, 'cause Cheryl's gonna say I told her, and…"

"So?" Simon interrupted, a tinge of anger to his voice, "you've forgiven him for much worse."

That was true. Maybe that was part of the problem. He didn't doubt Brendan would forgive him. He doubted Brendan would keep his temper in the meantime. Ste would be lucky to just get shouted at. And then Ste would forgive him again.

Simon seemed to be watching his face in the darkness. "Ste, are you scared of him?"

Ste's face shot up. He was scared, but not of Brendan. He was scared of what Brendan would do. And how much he could forgive Brendan for.

"You are, aren't you?" Simon stated, simply, "Why do you let a man like that have so much control over you?"

"He doesn't have control over me!" Ste snapped.

"You told me you'd die for him," Simon reminded him quietly.

Ste put his head in his hands again. He would die for Brendan, yet tonight he'd failed Brendan twice. He'd told Cheryl what he'd promised not to, and he'd failed to protect Brendan, to get the revenge he was owed. He could feel Simon's hand on his back, trying to be comforting. It didn't make any difference. He was being crushed by his pain.

"And even though he makes you feel like this, you're still going back to him, aren't you?"

Ste shrugged. "I never said that," he said.

Simon withdrew his hand. "Would you be dreading it this much if you weren't?"

Ste had to accept that, but he didn't let Simon know. He slumped. How could he explain this to Simon? "It's like… when we're together, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be."

Simon didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his words. Ste continued.

"I know he's damaged, I know he's dangerous, but he's also not, right? He's saved me."

"Saved you?" asked Simon.

Ste nodded. "Before you arrived, right, there was this guy. He tried to hurt me, to use me, but Brendan, he stopped him, he protected me, even though I nearly did some really awful things. He looked after me."

Simon put his head on one side, thinking over Ste's words. "So, you're with him through guilt? And gratitude?"

"No!" Ste protested, "I didn't mean…"

"You think he cares about you? He doesn't, he's just claiming ownership. He looks after his things, because they're his, not because he loves them."

Ste stood up, angrily, "You know nothing about him."

"Don't I?" Simon replied, calmly.

"No! How can you, you've known him, what a couple of days?"

"A couple of days less than you, you mean," Simon replied, calmly, coldly. He stood and faced Ste. "You're right," he added quietly. "I don't know him. I don't care about him. I care about you."

Ste groaned, "You can't keep doing that!"

"Doing what? Telling you the truth?"

"Yes!" Ste cried, "If Brendan finds out he'll be furious!"

Simon shrugged, "Maybe I don't care."

Ste turned away from him. "I'm going back."

"Don't," Simon pleaded.

"Good night, Simon," Ste said firmly, striding away as fast as he could without running, feeling annoyed with himself and Simon. If Simon couldn't stop with this stupid stuff, Ste was going to have start avoiding him, which could be both very awkward and sad. He'd enjoyed spending time with Simon before he'd started on these ridiculous confessions of love.

He jumped at a sound behind him. A cat suddenly sprang from an alleyway, the speed and surprise making Ste's heart race. His hands were still shaking from the night's adventure. This journey was going to be hell.

He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. He had to get home. It was a battle, to go somewhere he was frightened to get to, imagining death around every corner, in every shadow, behind every object. Every dog that barked, every baby that cried, every snore that rang through an open window was enough to send him into new waves of panic, and before he was even two streets along the way he was a mess of nerves.

He fell back against a wall and hugged himself. There were too many quiet noises, they grew in Ste's head to a great mass of sound until he couldn't tell them apart or even which direction they came from. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear it.

"Simon?" he called quietly. "Simon, are you there?"

He was hoping he was. Hoping Simon had followed him, because at that moment he didn't know if he could get back on his own. "Simon?" he said again.

"I'm here," a quiet voice by his side assured. "It's OK."

Ste hated himself. This was an awful beginning in his quest to avoid Simon, but Simon's presence was the only thing that held him together.

Simon hushed him and put a comforting hand on his back. "Shh," he breathed, "I'm here. I'll take care of you."

"I just wanna get back now," Ste insisted, his anger and need for comfort warring inside him.

"Alright," said Simon, "I'll take you back to Brendan's, but only if you let me stay."

Ste was about to protest, but Simon stopped him.

"Not like that," he said, "but I won't leave you alone with someone you're this scared of."

"I'm not scared of him!" Ste argued again.

Simon didn't comment. He put a comforting hand on Ste's back and guided them along the street. Ste kept close, but everything was calming. He could tell apart the sounds, could recognise that the street was free of others, they were still not being followed.

They didn't speak for the remainder of the journey. The silence gave Ste the chance to develop his sense of shame. He'd behaved like a child, running scared and panicking, then crying in front of Simon, and clinging to him. How pathetic must he look. No wonder Simon thought it was OK to treat him like a girl.

He pulled out of Simon's hands. It was too late to start trying to persuade Simon he wasn't pathetic but that didn't mean it wasn't about time he started trying to behave like a grown man. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and tried not to let the shame eat him up while Simon could still see.

Brendan's street was quieter than other parts of Liverpool. Things were still happening, Ste could spot the odd candle shining from kitchens and attics, but anyone who was up was trying not to wake anyone else. Ste made his way quickly to Brendan's back door. He hoped Simon would forget his decision, but he didn't, he followed Ste into the Brady house like it was his own.

Ste frowned with annoyance, as somehow, in amongst all that shame and guilt and misery, the sheer inconvenience of Simon being here came back to him. Was he intending to sleep here? He couldn't assume Amy would still want to sleep with the children now they had a spare bed and Lucas was so much better, nor was there any reason to assume he himself would be sharing with Brendan. Obviously he couldn't let Simon share with any of them. Maybe Brendan wouldn't mind if Simon went in one of the boys' rooms. No one was in there.

And he hoped Simon wasn't intending to come into Brendan's room with him now.

He looked at Simon expectantly, but Simon just watched him calmly. What was he thinking? What did it matter?

"I'm going to talk to Brendan now," Ste said, turning to go up the stairs.

"OK," said Simon and made to follow.

"'Ere, you're not coming in!" Ste snapped, spinning back to him.

"Now you want me to leave you alone?" said Simon, "now we've got to the place you were dreading?"

"I wasn't dreading it! I was just …" he wouldn't say scared, "a man nearly killed me! I wasn't thinking straight. I'm fine now."

Simon just raised an eyebrow.

"So, thanks for walking with me, right," Ste continued, furiously, "but you can go now."

"The deal was I stay," Simon stated, simply.

"Fine," snapped Ste, "but not in Brendan's room!"

Simon shifted, "I'm not leaving you alone where I don't know what's going on."

"He's been stabbed, Simon," Ste snapped, "it's not like he's going to attack me."

Annoyingly, Simon didn't respond, nor back down. Ste rolled his eyes. "You're not coming in!" he said, as he angrily stormed away and up the stairs from the kitchen. He could hear Simon following, and decided to shut him out. He had more important things on his mind. He was about to face Brendan.

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**x**


	53. Chapter 53

**Thanks to everyone who's sticking with this story and an extra big thanks to people who take the time to review. **

**So, not a long chapter, but I'm trying to get as much done before my workload goes very suddenly upwards in just over a week's time. Boo. I shall do my best, and if the gaps between updates get bigger, all I can do is apologise and say I will finish if it kills me.**

**Enjoy!**

In the last few weeks Ste had tried to sell his body, been tied naked in a public building, beaten up and nearly been raped. That evening alone Ste had faced a gang of criminals, at least one of whom was capable of attempted murderer, yet somehow, opening that door was more terrifying than all of it. He was terrified of Brendan's anger. And it wasn't the bruises that scared him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he went in. He was vaguely aware of Simon on the stairs, but ignored him. He opened the door and walked in, shutting it behind himself without once looking back.

In the light of a low gas lamp, Ste saw Cheryl, her pink dress shining in the orange glow, making her look even more flamboyant than usual, even though she was quietly dozing with a peaceful expression. Her head lay on her hands, which were folded and rested on the covers beside Brendan.

Brendan himself was not asleep. He looked like he'd been watching Cheryl sleep, but the moment Ste entered, his head turned to catch his lover's gaze. His expression was hard to read in the dull glow, but he was unlikely to shout at Ste in front of Cheryl. However, Ste did not feel even an echo of relief. Anything could have happened since he was away. Brendan could be furious behind that darkness, and waiting for Cheryl to be gone before he decided to act.

"Where've you been?" Brendan asked, voice low enough that Cheryl barely stirred.

"Nowhere," Ste replied, quietly, knowing his current track record for lying meant he would never stand further questioning.

Brendan snorted, showing what he thought of that response, but didn't push any further. Ste wasn't fool enough to think that was for any reason other than trying not to wake Cheryl.

"Should I… go?" Ste asked, staring at the sleeping woman.

"No," said Brendan, "she'll get a proper crick in the neck if she sleeps there. Can you show her to Eileen's room or something?"

"Alright," Ste said nodding and leaning down to shake Cheryl awake.

"And then…" Brendan said before he could wake the woman, "come back alone?"

It was a request, not an order, though it was clear Brendan did expect it to happen. Ste nodded. He was here to talk to Brendan, after all. And so far there had been no death threats or shouting.

No. He knew he shouldn't let himself hope.

"Cheryl?" he called quietly, shaking her shoulder, "Cheryl?"

Cheryl groaned, and hid her face further into her hands.

"Chez?" Brendan called, "you can't sleep there, sis."

Cheryl grumbled but opened her eyes. She only had to blink a few times before she was awake and nervous again. "Is everything alright? Are you feeling OK love?"

She surged upwards, leaning over Brendan, checking his face, his body for signs of pain or discomfort. He smiled at her.

"I'm fine, Cheryl," he said, "but you'll be fit for nothing in the morning if you sleep like that."

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "I'm not leaving," she stated firmly, "I'm staying to look after you!"

Brendan took the hand and accusatory finger in his own, "As if I'd dare send you out of the house. I know what you're like when you've got a bee in your bonnet."

"I have not got a bee in my bonnet!" Cheryl cried.

"All this fussing!" sighed Brendan, sounding like a weary martyr, "I could never handle fussing."

"You will handle being looked after, and like it Brendan Brady!" said Cheryl firmly, squeezing his hand with affection. It was a gentle moment. Ste wondered if it was the calm before the storm.

"Steven'll show you Eileen's room, yeah?" Brendan added, in a kind gentle voice Ste could imagine him using with children. Sometimes he thought Brendan Brady had too many personas. The cold boss, the angry criminal, the incredible lover, estranged husband. Loving brother was not completely new to Ste, but seeing it now sent a whole new wave of affection through him. Ste had to force it away. There was no use thinking he was in love with Brendan if they were about to destroy anything they'd had.

Cheryl nodded, and leant forward to kiss Brendan on the forehead. "Night, Brendan," she whispered, kindly, with a gentle smile.

Brendan smiled back, "Night, sis," he said, his own voice gruffer, as though he were trying to prove his masculinity. He nodded at Ste, clearly indicating he needed to show Cheryl the way.

"Come on, Cheryl," Ste prompted, trying to sound kind, "I'll show you Eileen's room."

Cheryl nodded and Ste realised there were tears in her eyes. He decided not to mention them, and led Cheryl from the room wordlessly. Simon was sat quietly on the floor beside the door, leant back against the wall. He looked up inquisitively but didn't comment as Ste took Cheryl down the stairs to Eileen's now empty room.

Eileen had thankfully sorted it since Ste had last been in it. He though it now looked almost pleasant, as he lit Cheryl a lamp so she could get ready for bed. It wasn't a cold night, so Ste didn't offer to light a fire. He sort of wobbled in the doorway. Should he stay, offer to be helpful or something?

"Er… are you gonna be alright Cheryl?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine love," she replied sadly.

"Right," said Ste, turning to go.

"Ste," she called quietly after him, he stopped and turned back, nervously, "thank you," she said, shyly.

"What for?" Ste frowned.

"For telling me truth," she said, "and sorry I was rude, and for suggesting you were lying."

Slightly touched that she was being so kind now, Ste nodded, and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He'd not once blamed Cheryl for her reactions today. He'd never had a sibling, but he imagined what it would be like if Amy were hurt but for some reason didn't want to tell him. He wasn't sure his smile was very reassuring though.

He went straight out again, and back up to Brendan, giving a Simon a good glare as he went, though its full affect must have been lost in the dimness of the stairway. He re-entered Brendan's room without knocking.

His lover was sat up on the bed, eyes cast down to his coverlet. He looked thoughtful, melancholy.

Ste prepared himself for the telling off he was sure to expect. He barely dared look at Brendan.

Brendan shifted awkwardly in the bed. Ste wished he wouldn't, he kept getting images of the stiches coming open or something. He wasn't sure stitches could, but the image was enough to worry him sick. Yet he still couldn't talk.

Brendan could.

"So, where were you tonight, then?" he asked, his voice low, almost mumbled.

Ste didn't answer. That wasn't what they'd come to discuss, and he had no confidence in his ability to lie. "Look," he said, "I understand you're angry with me, I know we agreed not to tell Cheryl, but, right, I had to. She thought you'd run of to Scotland with some woman, and she was angry with you and it wasn't fair, and..."

"Steven," Brendan interrupted, darkly.

"What?" said Ste, worriedly.

"Just get in the bed will you?"

Ste's brain was screaming that it was a trap, that Brendan just wanted him close so he could reach him, to punish him for his betrayal. His body wanted nothing more than to pull in close to Brendan and never leave his side again. He was too tired for his brain to win.

He pulled off his outer layer of clothes and slipped into bed beside Brendan, shuffling as close to the older man as he could, and laying a hand on his chest and breathing in his wonderfully masculine and familiar scent. He waited a few moments for Brendan to start on him. He couldn't relax until he had.

After a few minutes, he wondered what Brendan was waiting for.

"So… are you…?" Ste asked.

"Am I what?" Brendan mumbled, sleepily.

"Angry?"

Brendan sighed wearily, stretching out on the bed. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I'm angry with you."

He didn't make any further moves, though. Ste frowned into the darkness. "So…" he prompted. However exhausted he was, he wasn't going to be able to sleep if he was constantly expecting Brendan's anger to bubble over.

"You broke my confidence, Steven, you told someone something I asked you specifically not to, I'm allowed to be angry with you."

A new wave of misery flushed through Ste. Brendan was completely right. Ste had failed him. Whatever Brendan did, Ste would deserve it.

He closed his eyes and waited for it. The shouting, the punch, whatever Brendan was planning to throw at him. He waited for a long time before he dared to reopen his eyes.

Brendan was sat on the bed, looking at him. Ste met his eyes, but couldn't read them. What was going through his head?

Brendan sighed. "You think I'm going to hurt you," he stated simply.

Ste blinked. "Aren't you?"

Brendan looked away, eyes downcast, sad. "I wanted to," he said, "A few hours ago. When Cheryl stormed in, all angry and betrayed and sick with worry."

Ste could imagine it. The very thing Brendan had dreaded. His limited experience with Cheryl had shown Ste that she could be a great mass of emotions at times. And his conversation with her earlier that evening had only confirmed that. She would have confronted Brendan with tears and fears and worries and anger, not only about the stabbing but about how he'd tried to keep it from her.

"And do you still want to?" Ste asked as his fear crept in peaks and troughs around his heart, reading the world into every breath Brendan took, every blink of his eye.

Brendan took too long to answer. When he did, it wasn't direct. "I warned you I'm a monster."

Which meant he did still want to hurt Ste. Ste swallowed.

"But you," Brendan continued, "got into my bed thinking I was going to hurt you."

Ste didn't reply. He couldn't deny it. He was in Brendan's bed worried about being hurt.

"Are you going to hurt me?" Ste asked, finally needing to know more than he was scared of the answer.

"No," said Brendan, as if it were that simple. "I'm angry, but… the red mist's not there anymore, you know?"

Ste nodded. He understood the red mist. Maybe the aborted activities in the warehouse had served a purpose after all, if it had given Brendan time to calm down before he saw Ste.

"I'm sorry I told her," Ste said. "But she thought you'd run off and left her, and I couldn't let her think badly of you."

"Why not?" Brendan asked, quietly. "You think badly of me. You still forgive me, and come back to me."

"I don't think badly of ya!" Ste protested.

"You should," Brendan replied.

"No! You're a good man, Brendan!" Ste urged, and meant it, despite everything.

Brendan snorted. "If I was a halfway good man I wouldn't let ye anywhere near me, the things I've done to you. If I was a good man I wouldn't have done them."

"And the things I've done?" Ste said. "I ain't a saint, Brendan. You know I ain't."

That pushed Brendan into silence. The conversation they'd been having was probably an argument, yet somehow it didn't feel wrong that they were having it while lying, almost clinging to each other in a bed. Even with what Brendan said next.

"Sometimes I think we should never see each other again."

It was a harsh statement that sent dread and fear through Ste, though he'd thought it more times than he could count by himself. Yet neither of them increased the distance between them. Neither wanted to actually move away.

"I couldn't do that," said Ste, honestly.

"Me neither," said Brendan.

Brendan grasped the hand Ste had laid on his chest. It wasn't enough. It felt like they should finish that day as it had begun, with something binding to show their love, but neither of them had the energy to move, and it didn't take long for Ste to find himself drifting off into a sleep as content as could be expected after a day like that. He wondered if Simon would get the message if he stayed in here, and maybe go home. Or at least find somewhere to sleep alone.

As the sleep filled him, he heard Brendan mumble beside him.

"And in the morning you're gonna tell me where you've been, whether you like it or not."

He was still too tired to dread it.

**Reviews? **


	54. Chapter 54

**Thanks to everyone who is still taking the time to read and review! Enjoy!**

Ste woke to a soft tickling sensation. It didn't take long for him to wake and recognise it as Brendan's moustache. It was, for some wonderful reason, resting against Ste's neck, gently caressing him as Brendan's lips moved with his breathing in sleep. Ste smiled. He wanted to wake up like this every morning, with his whole body feeling like it was glowing with the beautiful feeling of relaxation and bliss.

Certain parts of his body were reacting in more pressing ways. He daydreamed for a moment about how it could have been if Brendan had awoken before him, and decided to wake Ste with small but growing attention to his arse, starting with fingers and tongue and increasing in intensity until it became an assault on Ste's senses and Brendan could no longer take his writhing moans, and replaced his hands and tongue with his cock, fucking Ste hard and gloriously slowly.

But that wouldn't happen for a while. Ste could see the outline of the dressing on Brendan's side, reminding him of the wound. Until Brendan was strong enough, Ste would have to take care of him. He found he didn't mind. He craved to be fucked while held by forceful hands, but not by anyone else. He could wait a hundred years to feel Brendan's hands on him like that again. So long as he did get to feel them again.

Last night flooded back into his head. The fear that had so incapacitated him then seemed irrelevant now. When he was so close to Brendan, nothing could be truly ill.

He decided it wouldn't be right to worry Brendan with details of last night. Ste could avoid the question until Brendan was strong enough to deal with it all. Simon would help. He'd described Brendan as his 'friend,' he'd helped when Brendan had first been hurt, and his plan yesterday had all been about looking after Brendan. And Ste could do it all with the minimum interaction, too. Simon couldn't wait forever; he would get the message soon.

Brendan shifted in his sleep beside him. The covers fell away, revealing the muscular chest that set Ste's mouth watering in its beauty. Ste needed to touch it, and didn't hold back. Yesterday's hand jobs felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, and were nowhere near enough to sustain either of them.

He kissed Brendan's chest, about an inch above his left nipple where his heart would be. Brendan would never have allowed such foolish lovey dovey notions while he was awake, but until he did wake up, Ste had free reign. He kissed the chest again, moving down, just missing the nipple, and hearing a soft change in his lover's breathing that suggested he was waking. He kissed again, again moving lower, now in the dip in his chest, and then again an inch above his bellybutton. He gave that dip an extra treat of wet tongue, before creeping his kisses lower and lower down his lover's body. By the time he'd reached Brendan's cock, Ste was pretty sure the older man would be awake.

He looked up, and smirked at the sleepy but sparkling blue eyes that watched him move. He nudged Brendan's legs apart, and climbed between them, the covers pushed low around their legs. He licked his lips.

He waited for the tiny nod Brendan gave him. The last thing either of them wanted was Brendan to feel uncomfortable when Ste was here, ready to pleasure him. The second he received the nod, he grinned, and kissed Brendan's cock gently, like a knight of old would kiss the ring of a king. He heard and saw the sigh of pleasure Brendan gave at the contact, and it felt wonderful, knowing that Brendan still wanted him as much as he wanted Brendan. He couldn't believe they were this lucky, sometimes, getting to spend all this time together.

He kissed the head of Brendan's cock again, watching fascinated as it become more interested in what he was doing, filling with blood, growing hard. He licked it encouragingly, first at the head, then lower. When he reached the balls he took one into his mouth and sucked on it.

Brendan groaned above him, so Ste sucked harder, applying his tongue, and cupping the other ball with his hand. Brendan moaned his name, "Steven," the long version that only Brendan used, the version that could make Ste squirm when Brendan said it in a voice like that. He didn't think Brendan had ever called him Ste. It would be wrong if he started now. It was something they shared, and seemed, to Ste, like Brendan was calling him "darling," picking him out as his sweetheart, his lover, but in a code, so he could use it in front of anyone. It was like, however secret their relationship, in some ways Brendan was flaunting it for all the world to see.

Ste loved that. Maybe he needed a name to return the feeling. He wondered how Brendan would react to being called 'Bren.' Right now, with Brendan's ball in his mouth was not an ideal time to ask.

He let the ball out of his mouth and attacked the other one. It didn't get as much attention as the first, because Brendan's hand was grasping in his hair.

"Stop teasing, Steven," he half begged, half ordered, "take it, take it…"

Ste only considered ignoring the words for a moment. He got to his knees and climbed up the bed to kiss Brendan properly on the mouth, briefly, before retreating back to Brendan's cock. This time he took as much as he could into his mouth, the sound of Brendan's unrestrained groan sending beautiful waves of desire through his own body. He loved this feeling of power, knowing that he could make Brendan want him so much, and right now, he didn't care if he didn't get to cum this morning. He was feeling too proud of Brendan.

Brendan had let Ste take control. Not in a major way, not anything like letting Ste top, but a huge step forward. If Ste hadn't betrayed him yesterday, he might believe that this was a sign of increased trust between them. But it couldn't be that. Maybe it was something similar though. An acknowledgement that even though Ste had broken his word, he did it with Brendan's best interest in mind. Maybe Brendan was accepting that the people around him cared about him. There were enough villains around to worry about, you could trust the people who loved you.

Ste tried to take in even more of Brendan's hardness as reward. Brendan arced off the bed, and Ste let him, moving with him. He felt Brendan grab at his hair again, and didn't mind. It felt quite good to feel those strong hands, even in the wrong place. It was good to know Brendan would have the power again when he was better.

He moved his head slowly, up and down, sucking and using his tongue, and feeling Brendan grow more and more excited, more and more tense, more and more ready to explode. He hoped Brendan remembered Cheryl wasn't far away, and wouldn't make too much noise, even while the noises the man did make were intoxicating to his ears.

Soon he knew Brendan was ready to cum. He was breathing hard, tension tangible in the air. Ste didn't even change his position as Brendan warned him, and then came. He swallowed every drop, watching Brendan reach his orgasm and loving it. Brendan arched once again, his facing displaying joy and adoration and pained ecstasy. Ste didn't let go until he was sure Brendan had given everything and lay a boneless mess on the bed. Then he climbed up the bed again, leaning over Brendan's body without touching it, and kissed him.

"Good morning," Brendan greeted when Ste gave him a chance.

"I think I already said that," Ste grinned, cheekily.

"Hmm," said Brendan, "I think I like your way better."

He put his hand behind Ste's head and pulled him close again, kissing him thoroughly. He reached his other hand behind Ste, finding his arse and grasping it.

The door opened. Ste jumped off the bed, falling on the side away from the door, and hoped to goodness he hadn't been seen and that whoever the newcomer was wouldn't notice the sound of him landing, or the pained grunt he emitted.

"Good morning, love," Cheryl greeted, and Ste saw Brendan grab at the covers.

"Chez!" Brendan cried, "how can you get to your late twenties and still not knock?!"

Ste clung as close to bed as he could, aware that if Cheryl saw him now, there was no acceptable explanation to his presence in a state of undress in Brendan's bedroom so early in the morning.

"I'm in my mid-twenties, thank you very much!" Cheryl cried, "and it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Cheryl!" Brendan snapped, displaying his frustration, "What do you want?"

Ste imagined her doing a girly pout, as she whined "I don't need a reason to come and see my gorgeous big brother, do I?"

Brendan groaned, "No," he said, "but you need to knock before you come into my bedroom! And you need to go away so I can get dressed."

"You weren't dressed yesterday," Cheryl pointed out, as though that was somehow relevant. "You didn't mind then."

"I assure you I did," replied Brendan, "I was very subtle, but I thought 'Cheryl can you come back in a bit when I'm dressed' would be enough to suggest I wanted you to come back later because I wasn't dressed. Hey, what are you doing?"

The last words were tinged in panic, and Ste realised she was about to walk around the bed.

"Opening the curtains, of course," she said, cheerily, "this room looks like a pit a bear might live in."

Ste was caught in indecision. If Cheryl came around the bed, she couldn't fail to see him, unless he rolled under the bed. If he tried that, there would be a good chance she'd hear him, and know someone was here.

"You're not opening anything 'til I'm dressed!" Brendan snapped, angrily, "go away Cheryl."

"Oh, alright Mr Grump!" Cheryl replied, "Jesus, anyone would think I was trying to kill you, not help ye."

"Just go, Chez!" Brendan snapped, making no effort to hide his frustration.

"I said I'm going. Are these your clothes you want washing?"

Ste's eyes widened. There was only one set of clothes between the bed and the door. His own.

"Yep," said Brendan. He was probably caught up on the 'your' bit of the statement, rather than the last bit, the bit that worried Ste.

"I'll give them to Amy, then," said Cheryl, "Then I'll bring you up some breakfast."

"Right," said Brendan, uselessly even as Ste silently begged him to stop Cheryl taking his clothes.

"Egg?" said Cheryl, frustratingly still in the room.

"Yep, that's fine," said Brendan.

"Alright, love," said Cheryl, still cheerful, "I won't be long."

Ste heard her footsteps, thankfully finally on the way out. If she went straight down to the kitchen, he might have time to run up the stairs to grab some clothes.

She stopped in the doorway.

"Oh, and have you seen Ste love?"

"Nope," said Brendan, and Ste noticed he was a significantly better liar than Ste.

"Or Simon?"

"Why would I have seen Simon?" Brendan asked, confusion in his voice.

"He was here last night, love," said Cheryl, breezily, "I assumed you'd moved him in too. Like security or something. I mean, bless Ste, looking after you, but he wouldn't be much cop in a fight, would he?"

On the floor, Ste bit his lip. He probably should have mentioned Simon before now. Brendan would read too much into that.

"Nope," said Brendan, voice dark with emotion, "he'd probably be about as much use as a kitten."

Cheryl snorted, Ste wanted to stand up for himself. He didn't.

"Well, I was just hoping one of them would open the club for us," Cheryl continued, blithely, "but I'll sort it out, somehow. See you in a bit love."

This time the sound of the door proved that Cheryl had gone. Ste clambered up. "Kitten?" he said, "as much use as a kitten?"

Brendan's face was too dark to register Ste's annoyance. "You better start talking now, Steven."

"About what?" Ste snapped, "in case you didn't notice, you just let your sister wander off with half my clothes. The only thing I need to do now is find some more and hope no one notices me run up a flight of stairs like this."

"You spent last night with Walker?" growled Brendan.

"I spent last night with you!" Ste snapped.

"You know what I mean," Brendan grumbled.

"No, Brendan," Ste replied, "I don't. Because it sounds like you're accusing me of sleeping with Simon, then coming back here, with Simon, to sleep with you."

Brendan snorted. "Well, did ye?"

Ste felt like Brendan had just slapped him in the face.

"No!" he cried, "How can you think that?"

"Where were you yesterday, then?" Brendan asked, his voice only slightly betraying how much Ste's answers could upset him. He did a horribly realistic portrayal of cold. "From when the club closed, to when you turned up here? Where were ye?"

Ste couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I… I don't want you getting upset," he said, "I need you to get better."

"Who's getting upset?" Brendan snapped, "Have you slept with Walker?"

"No!" Ste cried again.

"You want to, though, don't ye?" said Brendan.

"Of course I…"

"I understand, Steven, I do, he's whole, he's not broken, he's never tried to hurt you." He didn't sound like he understood. He sounded like he was broken hearted.

"Brendan, I don't…"

"He's bad news, Steven, you don't know him, he..."

"Brendan, will you shut up!" Ste snapped, grasping Brendan's face in both hands. "I ain't interested in Simon."

Brendan stopped talking, but didn't look convinced

"Look me in the eyes, Brendan," he waited for Brendan to obey. "I'm not interested in Simon, I never will be interested in Simon. I've got you. I lo…"

Brendan blinked. Ste stopped mid word. Saying that again would count as upsetting Brendan. "I don't want to sleep with Simon," he said, trying to simplify it all.

Brendan blinked again, his eyes seemed to be wetter than before. He put a hand on Ste's neck and kissed him. Ste let him dominate, showing Brendan he could be everything Brendan needed, that he hadn't made a mistake trusting him. He wanted to get back into bed, but they'd risked too much already. Cheryl would be back upstairs with Brendan's breakfast soon.

He pulled away, "I gotta go," he sighed, "I'll be right back, though." He climbed off the bed, and skirted around towards the door, "And do as your sister says," he added, "she's looking out for ya."

"Yeah, yeah," Brendan replied, with obvious sadness and annoyance. It had to be infuriating for someone usually as virile and physical as Brendan to be stuck in bed in one dull bedroom for so long. As Ste went upstairs he thought about what they could do to get Brendan up and about as soon as possible, before he went mad from boredom.

Feet on the lower stairs reminded him to hurry, and he darted into one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Leah and Lucas were playing by the bed.

"Daddy!" said Leah when she saw him, and Lucas copied and they both ran to grab Ste around the highest bit of him they could reach. He dropped to his knees so he could give them both a hug.

"Daddy," said Leah, "why aren't you dressed?"

"Er…" said Ste, "I'm just … only just got up, haven't I?"

"Oh," said Lucas.

"But Mummy's been up for aaaaggeees," said Leah, with a scold in her voice she must have been copying from Amy.

"Well, she didn't wake me up, did she?" said Ste, standing up straight and glancing around the room in search of something else to wear.

"Mummy didn't wake us up, either," said Leah, "Lucas did."

Lucas nodded solemnly. Ste frowned, "Are you alright little man?" he asked. The last time Lucas had woken them up in the night, he'd been very sick.

Lucas nodded again, "It was just the man."

"What man?" Ste asked.

"The man with the hair," said Lucas, "he scared me. So I woke Mummy up."

"What?" asked Ste.

"He was only coming upstairs, and the footsteps made Lucas cry!" jeered Leah.

Another time, Ste might have scolded Leah for teasing her brother. Right now he hoped they were talking about Simon, but needed to check.

"What man was it Lucas?" Ste asked.

"I told you, the man with the hair. He's in the other room," Leah replied, precociously, "Mummy told him to sleep in your room if you weren't using it."

Ste could imagine Amy saying that in sharp tones, particularly if Simon had mentioned Ste being with Brendan.

"I better go check on him," said Ste, half jogging from the room, as his children started playing again. He crossed the landing in two strides then went into the second room without knocking.

Simon blinked at him with surprise from the bed. He cleared his throat, rubbed his eyes and said, in a croaky voice "Hallo."

"Er, mornin'", said Ste, "you alright?"

"I'm fine, Ste," said Simon, sitting up in the bed, allowing the sheet that had covered him to drop, and reveal his slim bare chest. Ste tried to look away from it. "You?"

"Yeah," said Ste, "just… you know…"

"Making sure I was alright," supplied Simon. "That's very sweet of you."

Ste flushed, "I'm just being polite, right?" he said.

"Oh, I know," said Simon, "though most people would have got dressed first."

Ste cursed himself. "I just… forgot. Sorry."

Simon smirked at him. "I'm not complaining, Ste" he said.

"Er, Amy'll probably give you some breakfast if you pop down to the kitchen," said Ste, trying to move on.

"She's a nice girl, your wife," said Simon, thoughtfully, "pretty too."

Ste's eyes widened. What did he mean by that? Did he mean anything? "Yeah, she's great," said Ste, his own, honest opinion of Amy.

Simon smiled at him, enigmatically. Ste frowned back at him, but made no more comments as he turned to go. Simon's voice called him back.

"She's almost as pretty as you."

Ste rolled his eyes. It was getting repetitive now. Simon needed to get over it, and fast. Ste turned to tell him that.

Simon beat him to it.

"I know," he said, "you want Brendan."

Ste nodded, daring to hope this was Simon coming to terms with that.

"And I can see it," Simon said, "the two of you sleeping beside each other," he let out a shuddering breath, "That's a work of art."

An image of Brendan and himself asleep appeared in Ste's mind. Brendan would be something special to watch, but there was something in the way Simon said those words that suggested more than supposition, that made Ste turn and exit the room without further comment, and with a nervous twist in his stomach.

Simon had watched them sleep last night.

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


	55. Chapter 55

**Agh! Meant do loads last week. Didn't. Sorry! **

**Thanks to everyone who is still reading and reviewing. I feel I need to emphasise still. I never meant for it to be this long! I will continue to do my best, I promise! This chap is a bit wobbly, but it gets us where I wanted it to go. Enjoy!**

Ste found some spare clothes and darted down to the kitchen to check on Amy. When he bumped into Cheryl and some eggs for Brendan on the way down, he gave her a shy smile and hoped he wasn't as bright red as he imagined.

"Morning, Ste," Cheryl greeted, her breezy manner suggesting she hadn't noticed anything amiss, "can you come up to Brendan's room when you've got a minute?"

"Er, course," said Ste, reminding himself he wasn't supposed to know what that would be about.

"Oh, and do you know where Simon is now?" asked Cheryl as they passed.

"Er, yeah, he slept upstairs," said Ste.

"Oh, he is here," said Cheryl, happily, "good, can you send him in too?"

"Yeah," said Ste, "fine."

She grinned at him, and he turned and darted the rest of the way down to Amy, who was cooking, with a small grin on her face.

"Oh," she said, when she saw him, "I'm quite disappointed."

"What? Why?" asked Ste, grabbing some food for himself.

"I was half expecting you to run down here naked. They are your clothes on the table there, aren't they?"

His clothes were on the table. Ste flushed a bright red. "So, you didn't think, 'oh he'll want them' then?"

She smirked.

"You thought it was funny!" Ste gasped.

"Maybe," said Amy.

"What if Cheryl'd found me wondering around naked?"

"I knew you weren't completely naked, there aren't enough clothes here," said Amy, "and it would have been funny to watch you make up an excuse for Cheryl. Other than 'I'm shagging your brother'."

Ste was not impressed. He scowled at her and gathered up his clothes, ready to go.

"Ste," Amy called after him, "are you alright?"

Ste stopped. He was battling between sarcasm and misery. Amy wasn't talking about clothes and sisters.

"Hey, I'm here for you, right?" she said. "I'm happy to help."

Ste nodded, half turning back to her, but scared he was about to break if he actually let her comfort him. She decided not to give him the choice. She pulled him into a hug.

He hugged her back, holding her close, letting some of his fears fall out of him with her comfort and feeling some of the strength she was giving him back.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," interrupted Simon from the doorway. At least he was now fully dressed, though the look he was giving them wasn't entirely friendly. Ste put it down to jealousy. Another person between Simon and Ste.

Amy pulled away. "Simon," she greeted, "I'm just getting some breakfast together, do you want some?"

"That sounds delightful, Amy," Simon replied, smiling at her. Ste grabbed some food from the table. It was time to start avoiding Simon.

"I've got to go talk to Brendan and Cheryl," he said, "Cheryl wants to talk to you, too," he added to Simon.

"I won't be long," said Simon, pleasantly.

"I could just… tell her you're down here," Ste suggested. Simon looked up, knowing in his eyes. Ste didn't want to face it, and wanted to discuss it in front of Amy even less, so turned and half ran back up the stairs.

Cheryl was sat on Brendan's bed when Ste arrived, happily feeding Brendan while he grudgingly accepted her care. He had more colour in his cheeks now, and life in his eyes. Between Brendan's appearance and the charm of seeing brother and sister interact, Ste couldn't help but grin appreciatively.

"Ste!" Cheryl greeted when she saw him, "thanks for coming love."

"No problem," he said, and turned to Brendan, "How are you feeling?" he asked, so he could pretend it was the first time they'd talked to each other that day.

Brendan winked at him, "Ah, you know, woke up feeling the best I had in ages. Like I was wrapped in bliss."

Ste flushed. Cheryl grinned.

"There you go, he'll be up and about again in no time," she said.

"Yeah," said Ste, holding in what would probably have been a terribly see-through innuendo about the word up.

"So, I was thinking, maybe you and Simon could open the club for us today?" Cheryl suggested, cheerfully, "I can stay here and look after Brendan."

Ste felt stupidly disappointed by that. His face probably showed it too easily, even though he'd known it was coming.

"Actually, Chez," said Brendan, "why don't you open up with Simon?"

Cheryl blinked, "Because, I want to be here with my big brother, obviously."

Brendan glanced at Ste. "I know, and I appreciate it, but, you know, there are some things a man needs another man to help him with."

"What do you mean?" asked Cheryl with a frown, as Simon casually wondered in and leant against the door. Brendan gave him a suspicious look. Ste tried to not look at him.

"Like going to the toilet," Ste suggested. He hadn't actually helped Brendan go to the loo. He assumed Amy had helped him use a chamber pot.

"He's my brother!" snapped Cheryl, "There's no part of him I haven't seen before!"

"Not just that," Simon interceded from the doorway, giving Ste a melancholy look, "Brendan probably wants to try to get out of bed, today, and he might need someone a bit stronger to help."

That was a good idea.

"I'm not sure Ste would count as stronger," said Cheryl in a stroppy voice that suggested she'd admitted defeat to herself at least.

"Come on, Cheryl," said Simon, "it'll be fun, me and you looking after the club."

Cheryl seemed to consider this, not so subtly checking out Simon. "Oh, well, I suppose…"

She started fussing around Brendan, about making sure he ate properly and was careful and didn't hurt himself. Ste glanced at Simon, who was still watching him with sadness in his eyes. 'Thank you' Ste mouthed. Simon was accepting them, supporting them. Ste dared hope that this was the beginning of a wonderful new start, where they could all get along, and there would be no need for awkwardness.

And he was getting to spend the whole day with Brendan.

It seemed to take ages for Cheryl to leave, and Simon waited for her in silence. Ste fidgeted as he watched Simon wait, wondering if he should thank him again. But Simon looked closed off and detached from everyone around him. He must, Ste assumed, have been deep in thought, probably about moving on. Ste decided not to interrupt.

When the slamming of the front door announced that Cheryl and Simon were finally out of the house, Ste grinned wide. He sat on the bed beside Brendan.

"So," he said, "house to ourselves?"

"And your wife and children," reminded Brendan.

"Yeah, but they won't disturb us if we ask them not to," said Ste. "And, I thought, maybe, we should try and get you up." Brendan looked worried, so Ste took his hand gently. "Do you think you're ready?" he asked.

Brendan nodded, but didn't look convinced. Ste smiled at him. "You can do it," he breathed. He pulled the covers off Brendan's body. He hadn't bothered dressing, so Ste grabbed some clothes from Brendan's wardrobe and went about helping him into them, pulling a shirt over the beautiful chest, and trousers over muscular legs that hadn't been used in too long. They weren't planning to leave the house, so Ste didn't bother finding shoes, and soon Brendan was sat on the edge of the bed.

Ste smiled at Brendan again. He looked completely normal dressed like this. With the wound hidden, Ste could imagine everything was as it had been before. Brendan smiled back at him.

"You gonna stand there perving, or are you gonna help me up?" Brendan growled. Ste nodded, and went to his healthy side. He pulled Brendan's arm over his shoulder, and put his own around Brendan's waist.

"You ready?" he asked, realising he was getting repetitive, but not wanting to hurry Brendan.

Brendan nodded and leant on Ste as they stood. They stilled for a while.

"You alright?" Ste asked nervously.

"Yeah," said Brendan, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Good," said Ste, "ready to move?"

Brendan nodded, and took more of his own weight as he stepped carefully across the carpet. It was slow, but Brendan crossed the room.

"There you go," said Ste, his grin massive and genuine, "you'll be fucking me up against the wall again in no time."

"That my motivation to get better, is it?" said Brendan gruffly. "I think it'll do."

Ste ginned again, and leant in to kiss him.

Amy chose that moment to barge in. Ste lurched back, nearly pulling Brendan over.

"Do no women knock?!" snapped Brendan, putting a hand to his side.

"Sorry," said Amy, "I just wanted to see if there was anything you needed?"

"No," growled Brendan.

"Thanks, Amy," Ste added.

"Right," she looked between them, slight smile on her face. "I was thinking of taking the kids and going out for the day."

"You do that, Amy," growled Brendan, gracelessly, as Ste helped him into a chair.

Ste smiled at her gratefully. He really would be alone with Brendan then. "Do you need any help getting them ready?" he asked.

"Nope, we're ready to go," she said, "see you later."

She left, and Ste heard her noisily leaving with the children, and after a wave of worry shouted after her to stay in public places with other people. She called a "We will," up to them before she left.

"So," he said, turning back to Brendan, "you wanna try the stairs?"

"We've just got the house to ourselves," growled Brendan. "I can think of more fun things to do."

So could Ste, but Brendan needed exercise if he was going to recover. "How about we do both?" he suggested. "Go down stairs, and… you know."

Brendan rolled his eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't want to tire you out," Ste teased, "I mean, if you can't get down stairs, there's no way you can be ready to have sex again."

Brendan glowered at him, but took the bait. This time he got up without Ste's help.

Ste grinned again. He was doing a lot of that today.

"Come on then," Brendan growled, pulling Ste back towards him so he could once again lean on the older man. Ste offered himself willingly as a leaning post, and made the careful progress from the bedroom to the landing, and then down the stairs.

It was slow progress, and Brendan grunted with pain more than once with the movement. Ste whispered encouragement, deciding to focus on things they could do when they reached the bottom. It must have worked, because when they reached the bottom of the stairs, Brendan agreed the room with the chairs would be far more comfortable for their activities.

They sat Brendan on a winged armchair where he sat silent and breathless for a while. Ste looked down at him and smiled.

"Do you want a cup of tea or something?" he asked.

"No," said Brendan, watching him steadily.

"Er, something to eat?" Ste tried.

"No," Brendan said again.

He continued to stare at Ste. Ste stared back. "So… is there anything you want?"

"You," said Brendan, in the same simple statement voice he'd used to say no.

"Me?" said Ste, biting his lip. "How do you want me?"

"Here," Brendan said, indicating in front of him. Ste stood so their toes were touching, as close as he dared.

"Closer," Brendan ordered.

Ste didn't think he could get closer, but he leant forward anyway.

"Closer," Brendan whispered, putting a hand on Ste's waist and nearly pulling him over. Ste figured out what he wanted. He put a knee on an arm of Brendan's chair, and the other on the other side of Brendan's body, then wriggled until he was sat straddling Brendan, with the chair's arms taking his weight. His face was a fraction of an inch from Brendan's, and their bodies almost touching.

"That better?" Ste breathed.

"Better," said Brendan, "Not perfect."

"No?" asked Ste.

Brendan shook his head and pulled Ste in to kiss him.

Ste forced himself not to think. This was the best thing that had ever happened to him. They had days before they needed to interrupt it for any reason. He and Brendan could stay like this, in this chair all day if they wanted. Or at least until Ste's legs got tired. Maybe even then, all he'd need to do would be to shift. Maybe he could put both legs over one arm and sat on the other. It would be less sexual, but still wonderful.

He decided he had better make the most of that first position while he could though. He dropped his hand to Brendan's trousers, and, keeping their lips joined, he found the bulge at Brendan's groin. He smirked that Brendan was ready to go again so soon after their last interlude.

"That's the effect you have on me," Brendan breathed, "you should be ashamed of yourself."

Ste laughed. When Brendan talked like that, Ste could begin to believe him, believe that he was wanted, desirable, that Brendan wanted him now, might even want him forever. He pressed his palm against Brendan's bulge, elicitting a groan from the older man. With a grin, Ste went for Brendan's flies, then dipped inside. Brendan grasped him behind his head and at his arse, snogging him again. When Ste grasped Brendan's dick, Brendan pulled away to gasp.

"You're amazing," he breathed into Ste's lips, so as a reward Ste kissed him again, swallowing his moans of pleasure, and feeling Brendan's dick harden. He felt Brendan's hand slip inside Ste's trousers, a finger slipping down his bum. Ste arched, trying to push his arse against Brendan's hands but the rest of his body against Brendan's. But Brendan pulled away again.

"I love you," Brendan whispered, so quietly Ste thought he may have imagined it.

"You what?" he said, stupidly, all his movements stilling

Brendan blinked, like he was surprised he'd spoken. "Are you gonna make me say it again?" he grumbled.

"I'd like you to," Ste breathed.

Brendan grumbled, and looked ready to refuse. Ste frowned at him, and pulled his hand out of Brendan's trousers. "I love ye," Brendan mumbled, angrily. "Ye little bastard," he added for good measure.

Ste thought he had to be grinning wider than anyone ever had before. He grasped the back of Brendan's head and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Brendan clung to him tighter, the hand at the back of Ste's neck grasped his hair. He pulled him back roughly.

"Well, aren't ye gonna say it back?" he growled, angrily.

"I love you," Ste breathed, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

They grasped at each other again, couldn't get enough of each other. Ste almost forgot to be careful of Brendan's wound, and doubted Brendan would have minded if hed trodden on it at that moment. He was too overcome by the bliss of being in the arms of the man who loved him. He didn't even hear the footsteps approaching him. He heard the fierce "no!" though.

Then suddenly the world spun. He lost his grip on Brendan, and realised when he hit the floor with a thump that Brendan was no longer holding him.

Someone was though.

**Let me know what you think!**


	56. Chapter 56

**AN: Wow, you amazing people have taken me up to over 900 reviews! I cannot believe it. Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and continues to review. This mammoth work would not be anything without your support.**

**I hope you continue to enjoy it. I shall do my best to keep you interested and one day may come to a satisfying conclusion. Or maybe an unsatisfying one. We shall see.**

Ste felt winded by his fall. He couldn't figure out what had happened at first. He could only feel stunned, with a slight ache in his right calf on which he had landed. There were fingers in his hair and a man was whispering in his ear.

"No, Ste, no, no, you don't know what he is, you don't... no, no, he's a monster, Ste, no."

An arm wound around his chest, gripping him tight against a strong body. Not Brendan's. He could see Brendan in front of him, looking like an avenging angel, putting his feet flat on the floor, ready to stand.

"No!" Ste cried, "No, you'll hurt yourself, stay where you are."

"Let him go, Walker," Brendan growled, and the only sign that he'd heard Ste's words was a slight hesitating in his attempt to stand. He leaned heavily on the arms of the chair as he tried to get up.

"No!" Simon shouted, "He deserves to know, he needs to know what you are!"

"He knows what I am," growled Brendan, now on his feet, "now let him go!"

"Sit down Brady!" cried Simon, clinging to Ste like a lifeline.

"Let him go," Brendan repeated.

"Sit down Brady!" Simon shouted, and the hand in Ste's hair let go, only to reappear in Ste's vision moments later holding a gun.

Ste had seen shot guns before. There were a few on the farm, for pest control, and some that the farmer insisted were for protection even though he could never quite say what from. But they were all long, bulky things, monstrous objects that wouldn't even fit in a suitcase. This one might have been hidden in Simon's clothes all last night and Ste wouldn't have noticed.

Right now it was pointing at Brendan. Ste froze at the sight. Brendan only hesitated.

"Let go of Steven and we can talk," said Brendan. The words were an offer but his voice suggested it was an order.

"Don't make me do it Brendan," hissed Simon, his grip on Ste's chest tightening.

"Let him go, Simon!" Brendan repeated, controlled fury in his voice. He stepped forward. Simon let out a guttural cry and suddenly the gun wasn't pointing at Brendan anymore. It was pointed at Ste's knee cap.

"Let's see how much you love him shall we?" sneered Simon, "See whether you'll put him before your pride."

"Oh God," Ste whispered, trying to retract his leg only for Simon to stop him with a vicious squeeze and a shake.

"Sit down Brendan!" Simon repeated.

Brendan looked down at where the gun touched the knee. He sighed heavily, like he was giving in, and let his body fall. Simon hadn't needed to be so insistent. Ste could tell Brendan had been ready to fall down. He was probably exhausted after the walk downstairs and the near sex that had just happened. Ste couldn't help worrying that the wound might have been torn open.

"Good boy," said Simon, his hard breathing betraying his stress. He let go of Ste slowly, "Ste, tie him up."

"No!" cried Ste.

"Tie him…"

"He's injured, I'm not tying him up!" Ste argued.

"You don't understand!" cried Simon, "he's dangerous, he's a monster, he's…"

"He's got stitches, I'm not…"

Simon pointed the gun at Brendan again. It was enough to silence Ste.

"Tie him up, or I injure him more fatally," said Simon, more coldly than Ste had ever heard him speak. He wanted not to believe him capable of carrying out the threat, but he didn't dare risk Brendan on that.

"What with?" he said instead, "I ain't got a rope or owt."

Simon's gaze left Brendan's for a moment, and glanced around.

"Curtains," he said, eyes snapping back to Brendan's face, "They've got something tied round them, use that."

It was true, a long soft cord was tied around each curtain, one at either side of the window fixing them to a ring on the wall. Ste glanced at Brendan, hoping for instruction. He got a short nod in response, so pulled the string from around the curtain and approached Brendan with it. He didn't really know what to do next. He awkwardly wrapped it around Brendan's upper chest and loosely tied the two ends together behind the chair. It probably wouldn't have held Brendan at his full strength, and Ste had been careful to avoid the wound on Brendan's side, but he hoped it would be enough to appease Simon until he'd calmed down and told them all why he was behaving the way he was. This was quite extreme lengths just to get Ste into bed.

"Come back here, Ste," Simon ordered.

Ste stayed behind the chair, "What do you want?" he asked, "Why are you pointing a gun at us?"

"You need to see him for what he is, Ste," said Simon.

"But," protested Ste, "If you wanted to tell me something, you could have just told me! We had hours last night, you could have told me anything!"

"It's because, whatever he thinks of me, he knows he's just as bad," said Brendan.

"Shut up!" snarled Simon.

"He's a monster, too, and he knows it."

"Shut your mouth Brady, or I'll blow a hole in it."

"Who kidnapped Steven, Simon?"

Simon's face was a frozen picture of fury.

"What?" said Ste, thoroughly confused now.

"I asked him to persuade you to listen," said Brendan, uncaring of the gun or Simon's fury, "I could tell you thought he was a nice guy, trustworthy or whatever, and I wanted to tell you everything, but you weren't listening to me, so I said 'talk to Steven for me, Simon, try to make him listen to me.' Next thing I know you're unconscious and tied to a chair in my club."

The slight tremble in Simon's lip showed Ste that Brendan was speaking the truth. But it didn't make sense.

"Why?" Ste cried, "Why would you do that?"

"He's twisting things!" Simon hissed.

"I'm not," said Brendan.

"So, he didn't do that to you!" said Simon, "he's more than capable. He's done a thousand times worse!"

"But why would you do that?" Ste repeated, "You, Simon! Not him, you?!"

Simon seemed unable to answer. He breathed heavily, the gun still pointing at Brendan, though neither Ste nor Brendan had moved. Simon swallowed, his fingers shifting on the gun. "Ste," he said, trying to get himself under control. "Come here."

"No," said Ste, terrified.

"Ste, I'm trying to help you," said Simon, plead in his voice.

Ste ignored him. He couldn't trust Simon. All he could do was get Brendan out of there. He went to untie the knot. Simon's reaction was fast and harsh. He crossed the room to Brendan's chair in seconds, and slammed the gun into the side of Brendan's face. Brendan's head smacked around against the high back of the chair and Ste shouted, letting go of the rope.

Simon put the barrel of the gun an inch from Brendan's forehead. "Come here," he repeated, enunciating each word.

"Juft …un …Fte…Ste…ven, run" Brendan got out through a bloodied lip.

"I'm not leaving you 'ere," Ste insisted.

"H… He won't hur' you," Brendan stumbled, "i's me he hates."

"Shut up, and stop talking bollocks," said Ste, "I'm not leaving ya." He stepped round the chair, forced himself to walk towards Simon. "Put the gun away, Simon," he pleaded.

Simon blinked a tear from his eye, "I can't do that Ste," he breathed. "Things have come to a head." He stepped sideways, eyes still glued to Brendan, and made his way to the curtains. He felt for the second tie with his hands. When he found it he pulled it away from the curtain. He went back to Ste.

"Even when I'm wounded and bound you won't let me out of your sight, Simon," sneered Brendan, "am I that scary?"

"Shut up!" snapped Simon. "I'm sorry Ste, I have to tie you up."

"You don't touch him!" Brendan growled.

"Shut up!" Simon shouted, "Don't act like you care!"

"You know nothing!" snarled Brendan.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Ste," said Simon, "I just need you to listen, and if I don't you'll try to escape."

Ste wanted nothing less than to be tied up. "I won't run away, Simon, I'll listen, I promise."

"Sorry, Ste," Simon repeated, and slipped the gun somewhere into his trousers so he could grab Ste's arms to push them behind Ste's back. Ste felt him wrap rope around his wrists, and couldn't help but struggle, try to pull free. Simon was stronger than him, though, and it didn't take long for Ste to know he had lost, and his hands were secure. There was a sudden rush, then, as Simon grabbed Ste and the gun afresh and pointed it at Ste's leg. "Do it, get up, attack me," cried Simon, "He won't be walking out of here, and he'll know exactly what your 'love' is worth!"

Ste was amazed to see Brendan had tried to get up again. He had managed to push the rope off of himself, and was now leaving heavily on one arm of the chair, the other hand grasped at his side above the wound. He'd frozen like that at Simon's words. "Sit down, Brendan," the southerner repeated, and Brendan half sat, half collapsed back on the armchair. But Simon didn't seem pleased by his compliance. Ste heard him sob. "You're a snake, aren't you?" he hissed at Brendan. "You know you can't win, so you'll keep lying to him so he'll try and save you."

Brendan glared at him, but didn't respond. Simon put the gun back slowly, and put a hand on Ste's shoulder that might have been comforting had he not just threatened to cripple him, "It's OK, Ste," he breathed, "you'll see why I'm doing this, you will, and you'll understand."

Ste shook his head, staring at Brendan, certain that his wound had ripped open, that Brendan could be bleeding to death as they spoke.

"Sit," Simon whispered, guiding Ste down to one of the chairs, "just stay there," he instructed, almost kindly, "if you try to run, you won't get the door open, and then I'll have to tie you to something."

Ste realised it was true. With his hands tied behind him, the handle of the door would be impossible, so he did as instructed, and looked between Brendan with worry, and Simon with loathing and expectation. When Simon seemed happy that Ste wouldn't try to run, he went over to Brendan and punched him again, ignoring Ste's shout of protest, then pulled Brendan's arms around the back of the chair. Ste couldn't see what he did, but he took the rope, and Brendan's swallowed grunts showed Ste it was far from comfortable.

He tried pleading, again. Simon was behaving crazily right now, but he was not a bad person, he couldn't have lied the whole time he was with Ste, "He's hurt, Simon. Let him go to a nurse or something. I'll stay here and you can tell me everything you want to, but let him get help."

"He doesn't need help," said Simon, coldly, "he'll not be leaving here."

Ste felt a sob rise in his throat. He could figure out what that meant.

Brendan closed his eyes is resignation, "Why are you doing this, Walker."

Simon let out a humourless laugh. "Don't pretend you don't deserve it!"

"I never said that," Brendan replied, "I've told Steven I'm a monster more than once. I just don't know why you think I am."

"Too many crimes, Brady?" sneered Simon, "so many you can't tell them apart anymore?"

"And what are you, a priest?" Brendan sneered back, "You're hardly an innocent, are ye?"

"Not quite," said Simon, "I'm a policeman. Well, was…"

That silenced Brendan for a moment, but if he was anything like Ste, it was less about surprise than it was disbelief.

"But…" said Ste, "you tried to kill someone last night."

"I'm sorry, Ste," Simon replied, "That was a lie."

"No, you gave me a knife, you had your own, we went…"

"You what?" snapped Brendan.

"We went to get the man who hurt you before he could try again," Ste explained, "it was Simon's idea, it was his plan, we was…"

"I'm sorry Ste," Simon said, and sniffed raggedly, "that wasn't what I was trying to do."

"Then… what...?" Ste managed, no idea how to phrase his question.

"I'm sorry you had to get involved Ste, I am, but I wanted to show him what it was like to lose someone he cared about."

Ste gaped like a fish, "You mean… you were trying to kill me?"

Simon didn't reply. He closed his eyes and wiped his face with his free hand. "You don't understand!" Simon groaned. "He's the murderer!"

Ste looked at Brendan for conformation. He couldn't judge him for murder, but he wanted to know if it was true. Brendan's face was a frown, and Ste couldn't understand what it meant.

"No one cared, Ste," Simon whispered, "no one. He was just some piece of scum to them. Some bastard criminal who got what he deserved. But he wasn't! He made his mistakes, he got caught up with the wrong crowd, but was a good boy, really. It's not like he was the only lad to be seduced into that life. Danny Houston can be a persausive man. Houston pushed him into everything he did. He was a good boy, really"

"Who was, Simon?" asked Brendan, gently.

Simon's only answer to Brendan was a look of pure loathing. "That bastards name was all that case, Ste," Simon groaned, "no one blamed him, no one said he was a murderer, but I could tell it was him. And I needed to show him what it was like to lose someone he cared about, for someone he cared about to be hurt like Cam was."

"Cam?" asked Ste in a whisper.

Simon sobbed, "My little brother."

Ste's mind was working overtime. He had a feeling Simon had got this all terribly wrong.

"I tried to scare you off, Ste!" said Simon, "I liked you straight away; I didn't want to hurt you. But you wouldn't go!"

Simon was getting manic now, gesturing wildly with gun in hand, tears falling down his face. "I was sure you'd run when you thought he'd knocked you out and tied you up. But he fed you some sob story crap about a Dad who raped him, and you fell for it!"

A shiver passed over Brendan's face to realise that Simon had overheard that whole conversation. Simon didn't care, didn't seem to notice.

"So, I tried to keep it about him, but even as I did I knew it wouldn't work. He didn't even seem to care about his own safety. And so I thought I'd steel you away; that would upset him." He looked at Ste, now close enough to stroke his face, "It really pissed him off to see us close, but you were so sweet. You thought you loved him."

"I do love him," said Ste.

"You don't..." Simon shouted, before forcing himself to calm down. "You can't love someone when you don't know them, Ste." Simon smiled sadly, and put rested his hand on Ste's cheek "I didn't mean a word of it at first, you know. I didn't think I did anyway. Then he got himself stabbed. I mean, I couldn't let him die unless I made it happen, and you were so worried and upset, and I suddenly knew what I had to do. You weren't going to fall out of love just like that. You're too good a person."

Ste blinked. Simon thought he was a good person because he loved a man? That was wrong, surely? That was one of the many things that made Ste evil.

"So I arranged last night. I knew only one of two things could happen. They would kill you, or you would kill one of them. Either way you would die, because I would arrest you for murder. You would hang for it. But I… I failed. I couldn't let them hurt you. I couldn't let anyone hurt you."

"You keep threatening to shoot me!" Ste hissed.

"Not kill you! I can't! I mean it now, Ste, I do, I love you, I swear!"

Ste refused to look at him. He was lying. He couldn't do all that if he cared even a little about Ste.

"Brendan hurts you, doesn't he?" snapped Simon, suddenly angry. "You believe him!"

"He gets angry," said Ste, "it's not the same as this."

"He killed my brother!" Simon shouted, "He's a monster!"

"He isn't," said Ste. Ste knew for sure now. Simon had misunderstood what he'd learnt. The timing told Ste that. Simon had arrived a couple of days after that awful moment. It wasn't Brendan he should be hating.

"He has to pay for it Ste!" Simon cried, "I'll look after you, I will, but he killed someone and now he has to pay for it."

"He didn't kill anyone!" Ste cried, "Simon, it wasn't Brendan!"

Simon already had the gun pointed at Brendan again, who was struggling with his bonds, breathing hard. "You don't know that, Ste."

"I do, Simon!" Ste gasped. "Brendan didn't kill him."

He sobbed hard, knowing that when he said this, there was no going back.

"Brendan didn't kill your brother. He wasn't even here when it happened!" He steeled himself for the blows or the shots that would come now, "Simon, I killed him. I killed Cam."

**AN: Dun dun dun.**

**Reviews are always appreciated. Please keep them coming. There is certain round number that would be sooooo amazing to meet! x**


	57. Chapter 57

**AN: Thanks again for all the lovely lovely lovely people who reviewed! It means so much to me that people are still reading and take the time to say nice things. I know people say that a lot, but that's because it's so true.**

**For anyone who asked, the incident Ste is referring to here and in last chapter happened in chapter 26, (silly long story) s/8657326/26/House-of-Pomegranates**

**Sorry, it's another short chapter (and another cliff hanger), but I fear I mightn't get more out for ages, and didn't want to repay all your kindness by making you wait too long. I am aiming for more next weekend, but I can make no promises.**

**Thanks again, and I hope you continue to enjoy.**

* * *

Simon stared at Ste. Ste suspected he hadn't really taken in Ste's words at all; that he didn't want to believe them, not when he'd been so fixated on hating Brendan for so long.

"He's lying Walker," Brendan suddenly growled, "He's trying to protect me."

"No I ain't!" Ste cried.

"Shut up, Steven," Brendan barked, "he'd never hurt anyone, Simon, look at him, you can't believe he ..."

"I'm sorry Simon," Ste interrupted. There was no point Brendan trying to protect him, trying to bring Simon's wrath back to him. How was he supposed to live a life knowing Brendan had paid for Ste's crime? Besides, life without Brendan wouldn't be worth living, "but he and this other bloke broke in when it was just me and Amy and the kids, and he wanted revenge because of what happened with Danny and he let Amy run away, but I thought he was going to kill me and then he tried to..." he couldn't say what he'd tried, not to this brother who loved him, " ...and I was running up the stairs, and he was grabbing at me, and I must've pushed him or something, and then he was at the bottom and ..." Ste sobbed, trying to get the whole ghastly story out before Simon or Brendan interrupted, "he looked so broken at the bottom, all his legs and arms and stuff were going the wrong way, and... and ... " he cut out any Brendan interactions there, they were irrelevant. It didn't matter if Brendan had somehow finished the man off, he wouldn't have had to if it weren't for Ste, "and then he was dead."

Simon's face was creasing into a frown, tears in his eyes.

"Brendan just called the police," Ste pleaded, "he wanted to do the right thing, he was trying to protect me 'cause of mi kids, but he never hurt anyone. I swear Simon, it was just me."

Simon looked a little lost, like a child that couldn't find its way home. "What did he try to do?" he whispered.

Ste swallowed. He couldn't answer. He was waiting for Walker to kill him, and he probably deserved it. He didn't need to make everything so much worse by telling Simon what the brother he'd kill to revenge had tried to do. All that would do was upset Simon.

"What did he try to do, Ste?" Simon repeated, an edge to his voice again. When Ste still made no answer he advanced on him purposefully, threateningly.

"He tried to rape him," Brendan answered, voice gruff and passionate. "A man tried to rape Steven so I killed him. You'd have done the same. But that's got nothing to do with you, is it?"

Simon glanced at Brendan again, "Of course it is," he said, but there was a strange edge to his voice, "I'm a policeman."

"No you ain't," hissed Brendan, "Not anymore, not with what you've been up to," Brendan sniffed, shifted against his bonds. "And, if you're gonna kill me anyway, you may as well know what actually happened. Steven got confused, he saw me kill an evil man and neither of us bothered finding out his name, so he thought that was what you meant, and tried to protect me, but it doesn't change anything. You don't need to do anything to Steven; He's innocent."

"What are you talking about?" Ste cried, "Simon, I killed him, it had nothing to do with Brendan. It's me you should hate, Simon, not him."

"Walker was already working for me when I killed that man, Steven," said Brendan, "his brother, whoever he was, was already dead."

"No," said Simon, "no, he wasn't."

Ste could barely think he was so full of confusion and terror. "So ... so… what does that mean?"

Who had died more recently than that? If someone had died while Brendan and Simon were working together, surely Simon would have tried to stop it? It didn't make sense.

"Member of Danny's pathetic cronies, was he?" said Brendan.

"Don't you dare talk about him!" snarled Simon.

"And you knew he was going to die before he did? Sounds like he was hung." Brendan leant forward, mocking in his tone, "he the one that killed a Peeler?"

"You shut your mouth!" shouted Simon.

"You're precious brother drowned a copper, didn't he?" Brendan sneered.

Ste remembered the article. It came out the day after Danny's arrest, and he'd begged Amy to read it to him. He remembered her shocked face as she told him. Someone had murdered a policeman, and was going to hang for the crime.

Simon wasn't denying it. His face was crippling with fury and misery.

"A colleague of yours, was he?" Brendan sneered, "So all of this was because your brother killed your mate, and you can't handle that so you decide to blame whoever you can?"

"Shut up!" shouted Simon.

"So you'll blame me 'cause I'm the only one left you think you can get away with?"

"No! I know it was you! You set them up! You killed Cam!"

"You know who killed Cam, Walker?" sneered Brendan, "Cam did. He killed himself!"

"You made him!"

"No one made him into a murderer!"

"He was not a murderer!"

The two of them were snapping pieces from each other now, a war of words, faster than a fight.

"Yes he was. If you work really hard at forgetting he made his own choices, you could try blaming Danny Houston, but you wouldn't dare do that, would you?"

"You know nothing."

"But you can't let yourself blame Danny, can you, because you helped him, didn't you? You were working for Danny all along. Feeding him anything he wanted to know about the police? I bet you're scared shitless of him."

"I..."

"I knew he had a copper telling him anything he needed to know. You told him they arrested Warren Fox, you told him when anyone spoke to the law about him..."

"He was going after you, and then he was arrested, and I know it was your fault."

"Yeah, I brought down Danny before he could do it to me, and I enjoyed it too. I protected the people I care about. You led yours into Danny's arms."

"He took us in..."

"Ha! Danny only cares about himself. He wanted to control you like he wanted to control me and Steven and every other fucker he meets, but he didn't give a shit. Your Cam killed a good man doing his job for the sake of a few thousand pounds in Danny's pocket and a couple of shillings in his own."

"No!" shouted Simon.

"You think your brother was some…"

"Brendan, stop!" cried Ste.

He couldn't watch any more. Simon looked ready to fall apart with grief, and Brendan scared Ste when he got like that, so feral, and angry and wild. Even tied to a chair he was a force to be reckoned with, and Simon was a fraction of an inch from snapping. Ste couldn't dare let him snap. He still had a gun. He could kill them both in seconds.

Simon fell to his knees and sobbed on the floor, broken, maybe by the truth in Brendan's words, maybe by his grief for his brother, but Brendan listened to Ste, and didn't speak again. Ste didn't know if he wanted to speak either. It still all completely depended upon Simon.

The southerner sobbed into his hands, one of which still held the gun. Ste climbed awkwardly from the chair he was sat in, hands still bound though he was wriggling in an attempt to get the rope off.

"Steven, don't..." Brendan started, his voice all terrified concern now. Ste shot a warning look at him. Maybe they could help Simon instead. This was grief. Simon was not evil.

"Simon?" Ste whispered.

Simon dropped his hands to look at Ste with wild eyes.

"I'm sorry," Ste breathed. "I'm sorry about your brother."

"No you're not!" snapped Simon, "no one is. Everyone thinks he's some sort of thug and he deserves to die."

Ste shook his head, dropping as gracefully to his knees as possible with his hands fixed behind his back. "I don't," he said.

"You don't know him," said Simon, coldly

"No, I don't know him," Ste conceded, "but you obviously loved him very much."

Simon looked at him pleadingly, "He was a good boy, Ste."

"I'm sure he was."

"I could have saved him, I could have got him away." Simon's grip on the gun was alarmingly tight. His knuckles were bright white with the effort.

"He made his own decisions, Simon," said Ste.

"No, Steven, let him blame himself," Brendan grumbled.

"Brendan..."

"You know, Walker?" said Brendan, "when I thought my sister was throwing her life away, I got a man sent down to protect her. My own man, who worked for me. You will not believe what Steven would do and has done to protect his kids, but you, Walker, you couldn't arrest one man."

"Not helpful, Brendan," Ste snapped at him.

"True though," Brendan muttered.

"No!" cried Simon, "You did something to mess up the operation. I know no one was on to them! I know it was you!"

He got up and slammed the gun across the side of Brendan's face once again, before pointing the gun at his eyes. "Tell me what you did!" he growled, furiously.

Ste jumped up, stumbling where he was unbalanced by the bonds, and threw himself between Brendan and Simon.

"Get out of the way Ste!" shouted Simon, at the same time as Brendan shouted "Will you just fucking run away Steven?!"

"No!" Ste cried, trying to balance himself over the arm chair without leaning on Brendan, "I won't get out of the way and I won't run. If you want to shoot Brendan, you'll have to shoot me. He's done nothing wrong!"

"He's a monster!" said Simon, trying to look around Ste, get a way past him.

"He ain't!" Ste cried, "And you know he ain't!"

Simon met Ste's eyes, giving up getting round him for the moment, "Did you kill that man?" he demanded.

"No he fucking didn't!" shouted Brendan, but Ste swallowed and nodded. He wanted to say something in his defence; that he had to, that anyone would have done the same, but it all seemed pathetic in the face of Walker's misery.

"Then why should I care if you're between me and him. You chose him! And murderers die."

Ste had no answer to that. There was no reason he should get to live after the things he'd done, and he couldn't stand the idea of sitting back and letting Brendan be hurt.

The gun shook in Simon's hand, but he forced it to still and pointed it at Ste. Behind him, Ste could feel and hear Brendan going mad at the sight, struggling against the bonds like a man possessed, shouting and screaming, swearing he was going to kill Simon. Ste reached back with his hands, feeling for Brendan – any part of him. He needed to be touching him if he was going to die.

Maybe Cheryl would look after Amy and the kids now she knew they'd all been helping Brendan.

Hot tears burned in his eyes, leaking down onto his face as his fingers found Brendan's chest. Fear and panic overtook him, knowing they were both about to die, but knowing there was nothing they could do about it. He closed his eyes. "I love you, too, Brendan," he said with a sob as he waited for Simon to pull the trigger.

Simon let out a pained moan. "Why?!" he shouted, "why him? You're scared of him, how can you love him?!"

Ste didn't really know. It would be like trying to explain the colour blue to a blind person, or why he found men sexually attractive. It was just a truth that had crept up on him until he didn't want to hide it from anyone, and couldn't hide it from enough. He didn't think Simon wanted that as an answer. In fact, he wondered if Simon really wanted an answer at all.

"You don't, do you?" Simon demanded, desperation in his voice, "Tell me you don't!"

Ste remained silent. Even with the gun in his face, he couldn't deny it. Why would he say it when he was about to die if it weren't true?

He could hear Brendan behind him still fighting with the bonds, grunting with the pain he had to be inflicting on himself. He hadn't given up like Ste had, must believe that somehow, if he fought enough, he would escape the bonds that held him and get them both safe. Ste wanted to believe that, but he couldn't. "I need you to say it back, Brendan, please."

Brendan growled, "You're not going to die, Steven, I'm going to fucking kill him! Then I'm gonna fuck you on his corpse and we're going to live in a fucking shack in fucking nowhere, Ireland, which you're never going to fucking leave ever again."

Ste almost smiled. In a way, that was almost better than the three words they'd shared earlier. It was more Brendan. He didn't want Brendan any other way.

It didn't change what was happening though.


	58. Chapter 58

**So, you know when there's so much stuff you have to do, but don't want to do, so the stuff you don't have to do suddenly becomes stupidly appealing? That's what happened this week. Knew I wouldn't have time to write, therefore writing was the only thing I wanted to do. So here is some writing, like the 2nd half of the last chapter that I said I'd get up because it would take me ages to get up the rest. So, it didn't take ages.**

**Thanks for your continued support in reviews/favourites/follows/PMs. I love to get them.**

**Enjoy!**

Simon lunged forward, suddenly and without warning. Ste made himself stand firm. He couldn't show cowardice now. He needed strength. Simon grabbed his head. "No," Simon cried, desperately, "No, you don't love him, you don't," and he forced his mouth onto Ste's. Brendan's struggles and fights behind Ste ceased and instead became a low animalistic growl of hatred and fury.

Ste tried to pull away, but was held close by Simon's grasp. He couldn't fight with his hands tied. Simon even pulled him away from Brendan, like he was trying to stop the touch, the connection Ste's fingers on Brendan's chest represented. But the fingers weren't the connection. Ste and Brendan's connection wasn't broken so easily.

"I can be like him!" Simon groaned, between forced kisses, "I can be strong. I can look after you, I can control you."

"Stop," Ste begged when he could. It would be the worst sort of humiliation if Simon didn't stop, if Simon forced himself on Ste while Brendan struggled against his bonds and had to watch. Ste lurched away, away from Brendan, away from Simon and Simon followed him until they hit a wall beside the chair. Simon trapped him there, as Brendan had trapped Ste before on occasions that had sent Ste's pulse rocketing and made his dick as solid as a rock. Simon's actions only managed the first.

"I'm gonna kill you Simon Walker, do you hear me?" Ste heard Brendan shout, knowing his struggles had renewed. He wished it were possible for Brendan to do that. It wasn't. Brendan was tied to a chair and injured.

Ste wriggled his hands to get them free of the ropes, twisted his body to get out of Simon's grip, but it was no good. The hand holding the gun was to his left. Maybe he could elbow it out of Simon's hand? If he could get it out of Simon's hand, then get his own fingers on it, if he could just…

Then suddenly Cheryl was stood over them, a heavy silver candlestick in her hand, and Simon crumpled upon the floor. Her face was as white as a sheet and she looked speechless, which was very wrong on Cheryl. She stared at the man on the floor, at Ste, at the candlestick in her hand, and she looked confused.

But however grateful Ste was for her timely arrival, he didn't have time for her. He ran past her and straight for Brendan. He wanted to take the man in his arms and never let go, he wanted Brendan to fulfil his promise, to fuck right here and now, but something told him Cheryl's presence would stop Brendan doing that.

"Are you bleeding?" Ste demanded, partly terrified, partly furious at Brendan for his stupidity in winding Simon up further.

Brendan shook his head, "Jesus, Steven, you... are you alright? I'm gonna..." He hadn't stopped struggling. Ste let himself hope he craved the body contact as much as Ste did.

He went around the back of the chair. Brendan's struggles had nearly been successful. The bonds that held him were fraying where they were tied to the wooden bar between legs of the chair. It looked uncomfortably low, pulling Brendan's shoulders over the back of the arm chair at an awkward angle, and Ste wanted desperately to untie him, to stop that pain he must be experiencing like that, but his own hands were useless. He tried to pull them around, to look at the knots and get his fingers on them, but he couldn't reach. He groaned in frustration.

"I'll ..." said Cheryl, still pale as a sheet, as she shuffled after Ste. She untied Brendan's hands with nervous fingers, and he groaned as he moved them back in front of him. Cheryl rubbed his arms gently trying to ease the discomfort, but rendan only had eyes for Ste. He reached for him, and pulled him by the front of his shirt until he stood beside Brendan's chair, where he pulled him down further and hugged him. Ste craved the chance to hang on to Brendan just as hard as Brendan now held him, but his own hands were still tied. Even knowing Brendan was still weak and injured, it felt so good to be in those arms; he'd believed he never would again.

"It's OK now," Brendan breathed into Ste's hair. "It's all OK."

Cheryl broke the spell, "Ste, I can..." and he felt her working at the knots at his hands. He pulled away from Brendan for a moment as she did, but kept their faces as close as possible, and their gazes locked. They'd nearly lost each.

Ste heard Cheryl sob. "God, what did he think he was doing?" she cried, fumbling with the knots so much that Ste didn't think they were going to come undone any time soon. Neither of them answered her. She had surely seen enough to guess what Simon had been doing, and she didn't notice their lack of response anyway as she carried straight on. "He said he'd forgotten something, and when he took so long, I thought I'd just... I mean... what was he thinking?"

"Chez, it's alright, we're all fine," said Brendan in a voice of such certainty that they had no choice to believe him.

"Is he...?" Ste asked, indicating Simon's unmoving form still collapsed upon the floor and leaving the question unfinished. Simon was yet to move, and Ste was not intending to approach him while his hands were still tied.

"No," said Brendan, "I can see him breathing." He looked at his lover and his sister, "I need to end this, and you don't want to be here when I do."

"You can't kill 'im!" Ste snapped.

Brendan looked at him like he was crazy. "I promised him and you I would," he said. "I'm a man of my word."

"Brendan, how are you going to explain another body in your house?" Ste demanded, "You think the police would just accept your word a second time? He's one of them!"

"Another what?" Cheryl gasped.

"Walker _was_ one of them, he's not any more…" Brendan grumbled.

"And they might know what he was trying to do!" Ste argued, realising it himself as he went, "I mean, he might have lied to them, you know, and said he thought you'd done something. If he turns up dead they'll think he was right and you killed him to keep him quiet."

"Yeah," Brendan hissed, "and if he lives, he could tell them everything you just said!"

That was true, and it scared Ste to no end, "But it's our word against his," he said, then realised he'd made a huge assumption, "isn't it?"

"What happened?" Cheryl demanded, "What are you talking about?"

Ste and Brendan both turned to her, realising the implications of their words too late. She was white with fear, but regained some colour with frustration at her ignorance. Ste looked at Brendan for advice.

"Steven, you have done nothing wrong, and I'm not changing my mind about that," said Brendan, calmly, "Cheryl, if you can't untie Steven, let me."

Cheryl still hadn't managed it, so Ste let Brendan turn him until they no longer faced each other, and then sat on the arm of the chair so Brendan could untie him. Brendan's fingers made swifter work of the knots. "Cheryl, make yourself useful and fetch that gun," he ordered.

"You tell me what you're talking about now, Brendan Brady!" she ordered in the exact voice Leah would use to tell off Lucas.

Brendan only sighed at the tone, "We will, Cheryl, just get the gun before he wakes up and points it at all of us," he instructed, rubbing Ste's newly released wrists bringing the feeling back into his hands.

Cheryl scowled but acquiesced, and cautiously approached the prone form, picking the gun up from where it had fallen by Walker's fingers. She darted back towards Brendan quickly, like a child playing knock down ginger, and handed him the gun. Ste wished she hadn't. He didn't need more temptation falling into Brendan's lap like that. He was terrified of what could happen to Brendan if he killed a policeman, and looking at the gun only scared him further.

"Thank you," said Brendan, "now go to one of your friend's houses."

"What?" snapped Cheryl.

"Go somewhere it'll be safe. Mal's or something, or make sure Lynsey's home and..."

"Brendan Brady you tell me what's going on and you tell me now!" her face was still pale from fear but her eyes were burning with fury.

"Right..." said Brendan, looking flustered, "and when he wakes up and we're still having this cosy chat..."

They all three looked at Walker, still out on the floor. They saw him shift and groan.

Cheryl gasped and stepped away, behind Brendan's chair, Brendan gripped the gun, but Ste knew who had to take charge now. Cheryl didn't know what had been going on, Brendan was injured. It all fell to him. He took the gun from a surprised Brendan and pointed it at Simon as he started to get up.

"Steven, what are you doing?" Brendan hissed, "Give me the gun."

"No," Ste replied, simply, battling down his fear and panic, and stepping carefully in front of Brendan's chair hoping Brendan wasn't foolish enough to try to stand or move Ste out of the way.

Simon got groggily to his knees and looked up. Ste felt no small satisfaction at the apprehension that passed over the southerner's features; he deserved to know what it felt like to be on the other end of the gun, to not know if it was going to be used on him. He eyed the object warily then searched Ste's eyes, clearly hoping to find some mercy. But Ste had no mercy for him, only fear for the ones he loved.

"Are you gonna kill me, then, Ste?" said Simon. Ste didn't reply because he didn't know the answer yet. "You'd die for Brendan, and kill for him too? But would he do the same for you, I wonder?"

Ste still didn't answer. It was a stupid question. Simon had been ready to kill Ste just minutes ago.

Simon sniffed, rubbing the back of his head tenderly, "He likes you to be tied up when he fucks you doesn't he?" he said, jeeringly. It knocked Ste's confidence. How did Simon know that? "So, I tied you up on that day, but he didn't rush to let you go, did he? Do you know why he likes you tied up, Ste?"

Ste's stomach tied a knot. He'd loved both times Brendan had taken him while he was tied up, he assumed Brendan had too, but Simon didn't give either of them the chance to reply anyway.

"It's because he gets to stop you doing what you want, so he has complete control, and can keep you perfectly still so he can use your holes, like you're some sort of disgusting doll he's playing with. He doesn't see you as a human Ste. He sees you as his toy."

It wasn't true. Ste knew it wasn't true. But the words echoed inside him. Brendan did want to control him. He never minded when he failed to control him, though.

"You're just a whore Ste, some nasty bit of crap he took in off the streets that fills his bed 'til his wife gets home."

That definitely wasn't true. Ste had filled Brendan's bed when his wife was there, too.

So why was Ste's hand shaking now?

He felt a warm hand on his waist. It guided him down, pulled him back until he was sat on Brendan's lap, Brendan's left hand wrapped comfortingly around his chest, his right supporting the gun. He didn't try to take the gun away; just put his hand over Ste's and held it still. He spoke over Ste's shoulder.

"I should kill you for what you did today, Walker. The only reason you ain't already staining the carpet is that Steven doesn't want me to hang over scum like you, but if either of us ever see you again, you will not be walking away, do you understand?"

Walker scowled at him. He looked annoyed more than scared, like a child that had lost a game rather than a man threatened with death. "He'll see through you," Simon growled.

"He already has," said Brendan, "and now he sees through you, too."

"Go, Simon," said Ste. He wanted this over; he wanted to collapse into Brendan's arms.

"I'm going," said Simon. "though I'll be sorry to miss Cheryl's reaction to that little bombshell."

Ste managed to keep his eyes on Simon. He imagined Brendan did too. Cheryl could wait.

"Brendan's temper won't hold forever, Simon," Ste warned as Simon dallied.

"I'm sure she'll forgive you both, eventually," Simon continued, voice growing with confidence as he believed he was getting away with it all. "I wonder if you'll have time to wait though."

"I'm gonna count to five," said Brendan.

Simon walked from the room without fear as Brendan started counting, the gun following him out. He stopped in the doorway.

"Oh, and don't forget to give my love to Danny, will you?" he added, an ugly bitter look on his face, "You know, when he gets out on Thursday."

And then he left.

**Review or else... er... something worse happens.**

**Yeah, something worse will probably happen anyway. But reviews will help. x**


	59. Chapter 59

**AN: Gosh, it's been ages! Very sorry, it was quite a hard chapter to write, and I've also had loads of boring rl crap that had to be done. I will try to be better, I feel like I've been writing this thing forever. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with it, and particularly those who reviewed, followed or favourited it. I hope this will keep you going for now.**

**Enjoy!**

Danny Houston was being released.

Danny, who had had Ste beaten up with a word. Danny, who had had Ste tied naked to a desk where anyone could have found him, who had nearly destroyed them without even trying. Danny, who had done all that when they were all on the same side. That was how he treated his friends and employees. God knew how he would treat them now he had a good reason to hate them.

The fear filled silence that had reigned between Ste and Brendan since Simon had left his bomb of news was broken by Cheryl.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Ste and Brendan's heads spun to her. Ste thought about standing but his legs wouldn't move. He let the arm holding the gun drop to his lap.

Cheryl was looking aghast at them. "What … get off him!" she cried. "What are you… what?"

Brendan's arm loosened. Ste could feel the older man's disgust and dread growing. He knew a fall out was coming.

"Get off my brother!" Cheryl suddenly shouted.

Ste stood and pulled away from Brendan, who made no move to stop him.

Cheryl looked between them, her lip curled, her eyes wide. "All those things he was saying… they're not… you… you're not…"

Ste didn't speak. Another person knew their secret, another person was ready to hate them, to come between them, to wake Brendan up to the sins he was committing, and the need to stop now. He still held the gun foolishly and loosely in his hand. He went to the corner of the room and stood there, waiting. This wasn't his conversation. It was Brendan's.

With a grunt, Brendan put his hand against his wound, and shifted forward in the chair. He looked at the floor, sadly, waiting, just like Ste, for the fall out, for Cheryl's fury and disgust to burst.

Cheryl's breathing was loud and rushed. She stared at Brendan, her mouth ajar. "Tell me he was lying!" she demanded, as though that would be sufficient to counter everything she'd seen and heard.

Brendan cleared his throat. "He was lying," he lied, quietly, weakly.

Cheryl sobbed, "You're lying! He…" She seemed speechless again, almost more disturbed by the revelation of the homosexual affair than she was by everything else that she'd seen and heard. The gun, the threats all seemed to have paled into insignificance.

"That's… disgusting…" hissed Cheryl.

Ste wasn't surprised by it. It was exactly how he thought normal people would react to the discovery. Brendan groaned, and Ste understood exactly how he felt.

"You disgusting monster!" Cheryl hissed rounding on Ste. He didn't lift his head. It was true. "You've turned my brother into… you've made him do disgusting things, after everything he's done for you ...you pulled him down into your … your… depravity."

Ste frowned. He accepted the disgusting thing, but he was pretty sure Brendan had done a larger proportion of the pulling than he had. And Brendan had done it before he ever met Ste. Cheryl probably didn't need to know all that, though.

"Cheryl..." Brendan protested weakly.

"You people make me sick," said Cheryl, "it's not enough to break the law and God's will with each other; you have to drag hard working family men into your disgusting world."

"Cheryl!" Brendan protested more forcefully this time, but Cheryl took no heed.

"Brendan was a good boy! He would never have done something like that. Our Da taught us better than that."

"Cheryl!" Brendan shouted, before Ste could completely lose his temper and shout just what sort of man their 'Da' really was. It wouldn't have been fair. The rest of what Cheryl said was true.

Cheryl span back around to face Brendan. "You're right," she said, "You should do it. You need to get rid of him, yourself."

She stood beside her brother, her arms folded, looking between the two men expectantly. Brendan looked at the floor.

"Brendan," she prompted.

Still Brendan stared at the floor. Ste watched them, as silent as Brendan and with his heart in his mouth. Surely Brendan wouldn't cast him out so soon after telling him he loved him.

"Brendan," said Cheryl, firmly but kindly, like she were talking to a child, "it's Ok, God is forgiving, but only if you repent."

Brendan grunted, and glanced up at Ste, but failed to make eye contact.

"It's OK, I know," Cheryl soothed, kneeling beside his chair, running her hands comfortingly along his arm, "he manipulated you. He made you do those disgusting things. I understand, and that's exactly why you need to get him out."

Ste wanted to shout at her, to smack her for being so blind and stupid. She was so ready to think the worst of him, she'd learned nothing from throwing him out for asking to borrow money. He realised that she'd been the one to cause all of this. If she had just heard him, he would never have had to go to Danny.

But even as he thought that, he knew she was not to blame. He had broken the law, he had sinned, and she was only protecting the person she cared about. She was right. It was time to get away from Brendan, away from the temptation. He had to leave the city. He should have done it weeks ago, should have run the moment Lucas was well enough. But where could he go?

"Brendan, please." Cheryl's voice was breaking now.

"I'm not throwing him out," Brendan muttered, quietly.

"No, she's right," Ste interrupted, "I should go."

"Now you see it was wrong?" hissed Cheryl, "now it's too late and you've dragged my brother half way to hell with you?"

"Steven," Brendan protested quietly, without acknowledging Cheryl's words.

"Brendan, this is not alright, is it?" Ste protested, also ignoring Cheryl, knowing if he listened to her now he would breakdown in front of them, "People shouldn't do what we've done!"

"No," said Brendan, quietly.

"So I should go away. If we're not together, we won't…"

"No," Brendan interrupted.

"Brendan," Cheryl warned.

"You ain't going, Steven," Brendan said, firmly.

"Bren," Ste said.

"Brendan, it's a sin! A disgusting sin!" Cheryl cried.

"Danny is getting out of prison!" Brendan shouted, the emotions boiling over, "In a few days' time, Danny Houston will be out of prison, and he'll be here, and you think I give a shit about right and wrong?!"

Ste shivered. Danny was going to kill them.

"Why is that bad?" Cheryl protested. "If he didn't do it, then he should be out!"

Ste didn't answer her, he'd blocked her from his mind.

"Even more reason," he argued, "you can blame it all on me, and I won't be here. I'll run!"

"He'll find you."

"We don't know that," Ste argued.

"He'll win, he always wins," Brendan muttered.

"He won't, me and Amy and the kids, we'll go to London, or to Scotland, we can…"

"He will find you!" Brendan growled.

"So?" cried Cheryl, "if he's gone you won't fall again."

"Shut up, Cheryl!" cried Brendan, "do you think Steven's the only man I've ever fucked?! You think I woke up one day at thirty-three years old and thought, you know what I haven't tried? Fucking men! I wonder what that's like."

Cheryl paled even further.

"And you ain't going anywhere, Steven," Brendan continued, "you are staying where I can see you."

Ste looked at the floor, pointedly, "You can't exactly stop me, Brendan," he said, quietly.

Brendan glared at him. "I will," he said, "If I have to."

"Stop this madness!" cried Cheryl. "You can't be serious, Brendan!"

Brendan rubbed his face, unable to look at her. Ste tried to imagine what was going through his mind. He suspected that if it hadn't been for the news of Danny Houston, Brendan would be right behind Cheryl and willing to throw him out. Ste and Brendan loved each other, but family was family.

"Brendan," Cheryl cried, "I will not stand by while you … fuck your way to hell."

Brendan still refused to look at her. "Fine," he said eventually, "you're going to stay with Eileen."

"What?" Cheryl gasped.

"You're not staying here with all that going on, you're going to Ireland," Brendan swallowed, and curled his lip as though he were about to say something disgusting. "Write to Dad, he'll keep an eye on ye there."

"You can't send me away!"

"Can't I?" snapped Brendan, "You want me to write Dad now? Have him come get you?"

"You wouldn't!" cried Cheryl.

Brendan's face was unmoved. "Go to Eileen."

Cheryl folded her arms, "Alright, write to Daddy, I'll just tell him what you've been up to."

Brendan sighed, "You do that, he'll just drag you away all the faster. And then he'll never let you near me again."

He still didn't look at her. Ste imagined he was waiting for her to completely reject him, to announce that she didn't care if she never saw him again, to tell him every awful thing he'd thought about himself was right.

"Brendan," she began, and Brendan actually flinched, "You can't keep on like this, Brendan. Think about Eileen, think about the boys. How would they react if they knew?"

There was silence for a long while following that. Ste could see the fresh heartbreak of Declan's rejection stark and raw on Brendan's face. It had been enough to make Brendan throw Ste out before. But maybe it was the concept of having none of them that scared Brendan more.

"Steven's staying. You're going." Brendan's words were simple, not forceful, but Cheryl's face might have shown the same had he struck her. Ste knew that expression. He couldn't imagine being in the same situation, being an adult and it being normal and expected that he do as he was told so easily, without explanation, but it was that exact experience that had swayed Amy to leave her home to be with him, even without a marriage certificate, even after he'd hurt her. But Mr Barnes had had no good reason to try to control his daughter. Brendan was doing this to protect Cheryl, but no one had explained it to her. This could spell the end of a relationship between brother and sister, as it had for Amy and her family, if Brendan couldn't see what he was doing.

"Explain!" Ste cried, "Tell her about Danny!"

"Steven, just… leave it."

Brendan didn't see it, couldn't read that Cheryl wanted to understand, like she'd wanted to forgive him. She loved Brendan as much as it was possible to love a brother. She would die for him, kill for him, do anything he wanted if she knew he loved her. Even now, knowing the disgusting things her brother had done, she hadn't condemned him – she'd tried to save him.

"No, I won't!" Ste cried, "Cheryl, Danny is a criminal. He tried to force me to sleep with this bloke, just so he could make some money, he had me beaten up, he kidnapped me, he blackmailed us, so Brendan…"

"Shut up, Steven!" shouted Brendan, "Cheryl, I am telling you to go."

Ste wasn't so easily cowed, not anymore, "She thinks you're just rejecting her so you can be with me, Brendan!"

"Don't tell me what I think!" snapped Cheryl, furiously.

Ste rolled his eyes, were all Bradys so keen to shut out reality? "Brendan, tell her!"

Brendan let out a long breath. "Steven, just… just leave it alone, yeah?"

"No," said Ste, folding his arms, "I will tell her everything if you don't!" he looked Brendan in the eye, his eyebrows raised. "You know I don't do as I'm told."

Brendan grumbled incoherently, but a small smile played around the edge of his lips.

"Cheryl," he said, eventually, "I need you to go, just until we can sort this out. We will sort out other stuff, just… just after."

"After what?" Cheryl demanded, and Ste wondered the answer to that too. There may not be an after.

"Danny," Brendan confirmed in his gravelly, heartbroken voice, "He might hurt you if you stay."

"Why?" Cheryl asked, "what happened?"

"What Steven said," Brendan replied, his eyes shining with tears Ste suspected he'd prefer to die than show, "he hurt people, he threatened people, so I took him out."

Cheryl had shrunk away from him as he talked, shock on her face, "You grassed on him?"

Brendan laughed, "My word against his? Much good that would do."

Cheryl frowned, "Then..."

"I engineered it, I thought... he was one of them, you know? An aristocrat, a Sir, rich, posh," Brendan frowned to himself, "I was sure that would get him sent down. That's the sort of man they listen to, isn't it?"

Ste and Cheryl were both frowning at him now. What did he mean, engineered?

Brendan suddenly looked Cheryl in the eye. "You have to go," he said, "take Amy and the kids, they got nothing to do with this. If Danny's busy with us, he won't follow you."

The statement was followed with silence. Why wouldn't Danny follow Ste and Brendan's loved ones?

Unless he got what he wanted from Ste and Brendan. The realisation struck Ste like ice to the face.

"Steven," Brendan whispered, voice gruff, tears in his eyes, "come here."

In front of Cheryl? Ste wanted to ask, but it would only matter if what Cheryl thought mattered. And it didn't. Because everything had passed beyond that with Walker's leaving words.

He went to Brendan in four quick strides, and didn't think twice before getting back onto his lap and into his arms. He knew exactly what was going through Brendan's mind. They were both going to die, Ste and Brendan. In a few days Danny would kill them, and there was nothing they could do about it. They could save the people they loved, but not themselves. They had days left, and not Amy, Cheryl, Eileen, the kids, Brendan's father, Terry, not the devil himself would stop them spending that time together.

**AN: Thanks for reading. As always would love to hear your thoughts on where we're at and where we're going and what you think. Thanks again!**


	60. Chapter 60

**A thousand apologies, I have been very neglectful. I hope there are still people out there who can forgive me enough to keep reading. I'm not sure how much longer this will last. **

**Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review the last chapter, particularly if you reviewed. They do make me very happy, which makes me want to write (sometimes particularly when I should be doing the stuff they pay me for).**

**As always, I hope you enjoy!**

Cheryl eventually agreed to go without the need to summon the Brady father, which Brendan was visibly relieved by, (and thus confirming Ste's suspicions about the identity of Brendan's rapist). She went home to pack that very night, no longer able to look Ste or Brendan in the eye. Ste couldn't actually tell if she had understood Brendan's intentions, but he doubted it. There was no way she would have agreed to go if she had.

Amy was just as hard to convince, if not more so.

"You can't expect me to just go away and leave ya!" she cried, loudly, then realised how loud she'd been, and dropped her voice to an angry hiss, "What about you?"

Ste couldn't answer that question. If he had respected her less he might have tried for an 'I'll be fine,' but he knew Amy would read the lie in his face, in his voice, in the way he breathed. There was only one argument that he could use, and he'd used it before.

"Leah and Lucas are more important."

She wasn't as easily persuaded as last time. She folded her arms, "And you want them to grow up without their Dad?"

"I never said that," Ste replied, softly.

"Didn't you?" Amy growled, fiercely, "So you think that you, Simon and a wounded man are enough to fight someone like this Danny Houston, with his gang of how many, and win?"

"No," said Ste, hoping she'd assume they had more men rather than less.

"Ste!" Amy breathed, deeply, to try and calm herself, "You can't just expect me to leave you."

"I can expect you to look after Leah and Lucas, though," Ste replied, sadly.

"Ste," Amy tried pleading this time.

"Amy," Ste replied, mimicking her voice, "I am sorry."

She looked at him for a moment, considering him, "You know, I think I'd be alright with this if I just knew there was a chance."

Ste blinked, "Of course there's a chance, there's a good chance. You'll just go for a bit and then..."

Amy interrupted him with a sad shake of her head, "I think you've given up," she said, "you and Brendan."

"No," Ste lied, but unable to put the positivity in his voice that the lie needed. It didn't fool her.

She pushed her hair off her face, and looked him right in the eye. "Just promise me you'll try," she said, "promise you'll try to come get us."

"Of course I'm coming to get you," he said, not quite able to look at her.

"Ste," she said, seriously, "promise me you will try."

He realised he had to. He'd made Amy leave her home, hurt and damaged her more than he could ever ask forgiveness for, said he'd always look after her. He couldn't deny her anything. "I promise," he said.

She gave him a sad smile, and hugged him. He held on. In another life, she would have been the love of his life. In many ways, he wished she was.

"But, I can't go to Eileen!" she said into his shoulder. "She still thinks I'm sleeping with Brendan!"

A laugh escaped them both, and they didn't let go of each other. It all seemed so ridiculous now, and Ste wondered how he'd ever worried about that stuff, about Eileen finding out. As if that had mattered. His family had been safe, he'd been safe, and he'd had Brendan. It should have been the happiest time of his life.

"If you go with Cheryl," he said, quietly, "she knows Brendan never slept with you. Maybe Eileen will believe her."

"Maybe," said Amy, into his shoulder.

They all left the following day. Cheryl, Leah, Lucas and Amy. Brendan and Ste took them to the ferry port, Brendan using a cane and small steps, and waved them off. Amy, Leah and Lucas waved for as long as they could see them. Cheryl didn't look back. Ste and Brendan walked back to the house slowly, and Ste was pleased to see how much stronger Brendan was getting. It gave him hope.

"They'll be ok, Steven," Brendan assured him, quietly, "Cheryl won't let 'em go hungry."

Ste nodded. Cheryl gave that impression of being kind, and she might pity Amy for having Ste as a husband. Maybe. So long as Amy managed to never admit that they weren't married. Cheryl would probably overreact to that.

"You look good with a cane," he said to Brendan. It had just slipped out, maybe as he tried to avoid thinking about everything too deeply, but it had been floating through his mind since Brendan had appeared on the stairs with it, making his slow way down. It must have been somewhere in the house already. Maybe Eileen thought gentlemen should have canes, whether they needed them or not.

Brendan snorted with derision at the comment. "I look like a cripple."

"No!" Ste protested, "You look handsome and you know... What's that word? Dist… distinc…"

Brendan frowned. "Distinctive?"

"No," that wasn't the word he was looking for, "you know, like you're in charge, like you know what you're doing? Like a posh bloke, but not stuck up, you know ,dis… dist…."

"Distinguished?"

Ste grinned, "That's the one!"

Brendan sniffed, "You know, it's not quite a compliment if you have to think of it yourself."

"It's true, though," Ste countered. It was. Brendan with a cane didn't seem weak or frail. It added a refinement and a sort of nobility to the way he moved. Ste liked it.

Brendan's moustache twitched. Ste knew he was trying not to smile, so Ste allowed himself a proud grin.

"Will I look more or less distinguished fucking you over the back of the sofa, do you think?" Brendan growled quietly in Ste's ear, and Ste blushed and looked around himself. It might have been only due to the impending death, but Brendan was growing bold, saying things like that so openly in the street. Ste didn't think anyone had heard, but it was risky.

Ste liked it.

"I think we'll have to find out," he whispered, and bit his lip to remind himself to behave while they were in public. He pushed his hands into his pockets to help him resist temptation for the last half mile.

He fidgeted the whole time Brendan spent unlocking the door, leaning heavily on his cane. He followed sharp on Brendan's heels when the older man opened the door, and closed it firmly, gazing at Brendan. The big sad eyes were glued on him, with the dark glint that sent a thrill down Ste's spine. It showed him Brendan wanted him, Ste Hay, above all other people.

Brendan put one hand against his chest and pushed him gently back against the door. He didn't resist, and when Brendan leant down to meet his lips, reciprocated with enthusiasm. There was nothing now that could save them from hell, so there seemed little point in stopping.

"Back to bed?" breathed Brendan, between kisses.

Ste nodded, and made as much body contact with Brendan as he could while he passed him and made his way towards the stairs, keeping at least one hand on him at all times. He went first, looking back, trying to mind Brendan on the stairs without Brendan noticing and thinking that Ste thought he was weak.

Brendan got breathless during the short climb. Ste hoped it wasn't exhaustion from hiding his pain, but knew Brendan would feel a million times worse if he know Ste was thinking like that. So instead, Ste smiled, and tried to make a game of it, walking slowly, backwards. He even started touching himself, just his chest at first, then his thighs. By the time they were at the top of the stairs, he'd found some courage he never knew he had, and his hand was dipping past his waist band.

Brendan caught the hand. "Not so fast," he whispered. He used it to guide Ste to the door of the bedroom, which Ste opened with a grin. He stepped inside, then waited, looking at Brendan expectantly.

Brendan grunted slightly as he took the last few steps to the bed, and then lowered himself cautiously. Ste had to force himself to let Brendan decide when he needed help, and let him be strong when he needed to. And the moment of weakness passed quickly once Brendan was settled, his hands resting on the can stood between his open legs, his eyes glued to Ste again.

"Strip," he growled, and Ste was happy to oblige with an order so in tune with his own desires. He made short work of his jacket and shirt, which he dumped unceremoniously on the floor beside him. "Slower," Brendan growled at him, and that one was harder to follow. It almost annoyed him, how calm Brendan could be a moments like these, when Ste would willingly run through a fire to get Brendan inside him already. It aroused him too, almost as much as watching Brendan lose that calm as they progressed. He decided that loss of control was what he needed to provoke now.

He toed off his shoes and undid his fly, slowly, giving Brendan his best challenging look. He gently swayed his hips to loosen the material, and then slowly let it drop to the ground. Brendan's eyes didn't leave his, and Ste could read the need there, though the sadness of the last few days still intruded on the moment. It pushed Ste onwards – a challenge to overcome.

He didn't take off his underwear straight away. He wanted to tease Brendan, so gave him the cheekiest grin he could, then again dipped his hand beneath his waistband, hoping Brendan would take the bait.

"Steven," he growled, "Do I need to tie your hands?"

Ste felt a thrill and grinned. He was hoping for that. He'd spent the previous night worrying that they would never be able to do that again, that the pleasure would be lost to them, partly for Walker's jeering, partly for fear of reawakening the memories. Ste knew if they didn't jump straight back on the horse, he would never find the nerve to try again, would be haunted by Walker's kiss, by having no choice.

He didn't remove his hand. Brendan quirked his eyebrows at the response, but didn't comment. He took one hand off his stick and beckoned.

Ste's body didn't need instruction from his brain to obey. He had crossed the few steps to Brendan before either could blink, and put his hands submissively in front of him, offering them to Brendan like a prize. Brendan's face held a strange, sad sort of smile at the sight, and he took the hands in his own, bending his head to kiss each at the wrist and palm. He held them a moment longer, before he said "Top drawer of the chest by the window."

Ste smiled and went straight to it, opening the top drawer curiously. Inside he found a selection of Brendan's ties and cravats, fqr more expensive looking than anything Brendan ever actually wore. Ste could imagine Eileen buying them, in the hopes that if she could make Brendan look like a gentleman, he might start behaving like one. It would be quite typical of Eileen, to try to change Brendan, when anyone could see he was amazing the way he was.

Ste picked out a selection, wanting Brendan to feel himself in control as much as possible. He returned them to his older lover, holding them invitingly. Brendan took them without a word, and when Ste put his arms out again, used them to pull him forward into a kiss. Brendan's kisses, still took Ste's breath away, but now they were familiar too, and addictive. Ste dreaded a day when he might not get more.

"I love you," he whispered into Brendan's mouth.

Brendan sniffed, "I love you too, you soppy eejit."

Ste screwed up his nose, "Eejit?" he repeated.

Brendan smirked, "Yeah, yeah, it's Irish," he said, "it's like darling or sweetheart or something."

Ste kept his frown - it really didn't sound like something you called a lover, but it hardly mattered right now. He had more important things to worry about, like how Brendan was stupidly overdressed. Again.

He decided to remedy it before Brendan actually tied him up, pushing Brendan's jacket off his shoulders, and dropping it on the floor as carelessly as he had with his own clothes. Brendan didn't care, he was too busy starting on his shirt. Ste helped him by kissing the skin he revealed, and then dropping that offending article on the ground as well. Then he felt Brendan toeing off his shoes, and Ste made for his trousers, pulling them down carefully with Brendan's help, then appreciating Brendan's strong, muscled legs. He felt like biting his beautiful thighs, so firm and dependable and dappled with dark hair. He kissed it instead.

Brendan didn't let this worship of his body continue for long, and pulled Ste up again, as he shuffled backwards on the bed and picked up the ties again. Ste followed, crawling, then knelt between Brendan's legs and put his hands out again. This time Brendan accepted them, pulling them forward and kissing each palm again, before pushing them together in something like a prayer pose, kissing the joint between wrist and thumb on each, and then winding one of the ties around them. Ste felt a thrill run through him, part fear, part desperate desire, and his cock twitched excitedly when Brendan tied a skilled knot in the material.

He could feel Brendan searching his face for signs of fear or mistrust. He had none to show him, so leant forward, resting his bound hands on Brendan's chest once more and kissing him deeply. Brendan enjoyed it but stopped it too soon for Ste, and pushed him backwards until he lay flat upon the bed. "Stay," he growled.

It was a dance they'd done many times before, and Ste did his best as Brendan nibbled his way down his body, starting at his neck, paying particular attention to his Adam's apple, then his collarbone, then the dip at his chest, but between the teasing lips and the tickling moustache, it was hard work. Before Brendan could reach his nipples, Ste had grasped his hair with hungry fingers. Brendan didn't care, and Ste suspected he loved that he could make Ste lose control, that Ste found him irresistible.

By the time Brendan reached his cock, pulling the rest of Ste's underwear off in the process, Ste was already squirming. Brendan didn't need encouragement now, and pulled Ste's fingers out of his hair, holding the hands out of the way as he kissed the skin on Ste's hip, then further in, the join between his thigh and his groin. Ste arched, at the touch, and Brendan smirked at him, and repeated the action.

He barely touched Ste's cock though, favouring teasing kisses around it, nibbling and tickling and sending Ste's brain into a fog of need, until he was begging Brendan with incomprehensible moans. Brendan ignored them.

"Come here," he said, eventually, and sat up, and Ste groaned that the mouth was gone, but still scrambled to obey. Brendan pulled Ste up close, as he himself sat leaning back against the pillows, and then put his bound arms around his shoulders, so Ste was trapped in the act of an embrace. It forced their faces close too, their eyes locking together. Ste straddled Brendan's lap, careful of the side where Brendan was still healing, and rejoiced at the feel of Brendan's hard manhood nudging his bottom.

"Ready?" Brendan breathed, eyes wild, and Ste nodded. He felt like he was always ready for Brendan, like they fitted together, two parts of the same being. They were broken when they were apart.

Brendan prepared himself with a smirk at Ste's impatience, and let Ste slide down onto him only when they were both so desperate they would have exploded if they didn't get to join like this. Brendan filled Ste, made him whole, made him strong and feel like he was made of glass. He clung tighter with his arms, and used his bound hands to pull their faces together, one more kiss before they needed to move.

Afterwards, Ste dropped to the side of Brendan that wasn't wounded, his hands still bound, and both of them breathless. He didn't look away from Brendan's flushed face and neither did Brendan. It had been amazing, as always, and it had stirred up more in Ste, more love, more life, more need to repeat it as Brendan got stronger and stronger again, until Brendan could hold him still with his returned strength, could fuck him against a wall.

And he wanted to help Brendan too. He'd promised himself he was going to get Brendan trusting again, until he was able to let Ste give him the same thrill Brendan gave Ste.

He shifted closer to Brendan, pushing himself into his lover's side. Brendan tucked an arm under Ste's shoulders to hold him closer. It wasn't as blissful as it should have been. Danny may as well have been in the room, his effect upon them was so strong.

"I'm not ready for this to stop," Ste said, suddenly.

That was how he felt. They weren't ready to die. Maybe nobody ever was, but there had been something about Cheryl finding out that had reminded them that happiness was never going to happen for them. But Amy's words had done something to Ste, pushed him to see things differently. It wasn't just the promise, it was her love. Not the same love that he shared with Brendan, but an unconditional love that gave him faith in himself. Faith in a future. The sort of love families were supposed to share.

Brendan didn't reply, so Ste pushed.

"We can't just give up, Bren. We've got kids, we can't just leave 'em. I can't expect Amy to struggle on by herself. And you can't leave things with your Cheryl like that. She wants to understand you know, she loves you, and maybe she will understand, like Amy understands…"

"Steven," said Brendan quietly.

"And what about you're Declan?" Ste continued, "He'll understand too, one day, you know. He'll fall in love with someone his Mum hates or sommat, and then he'll start to understand, and maybe one day…"

"I know, Steven," Brendan interrupted. "I know. You're right." He lazily untied the knot at Ste's wrists with one hand, though Ste thought he might have been happy to stay like that all night if Brendan wanted. He threw the cloth aside, and pulled Ste's arm across his chest.

"Do you trust me, Steven?" he asked, and the question was completely genuine. He wasn't sure if Ste did. Which was stupid.

"With my life," Ste replied without hesitation.

Brendan nodded, accepting the answer without further doubt. Ste hoped it was because he was beginning to feel the same for Ste.

"I think…" Brendan said, slowly, cautiously, like voicing his thoughts might shatter the world, "I think I've got a plan."

**AN: Thanks for reading. Reviews are always a delight.**


	61. Chapter 61

**AN: So, I have finally finished reading the Game of Thrones series of books, which are the sort of books it's easy to get completely obsessed with, and are probably partly for blame in the slowing of this story. That on top of work, anyway. But now they are done, and I have some holiday coming up, there's a good chance this will reawaken and spill forth from my fingers once more.**

**Maybe.**

**Enjoy!**

The day arrived, inevitably. Ste's prayers for the preceding days to never end were ignored, as he knew they would. God was unlikely to answer the prayers of hopeless sinners like Ste and Brendan. As countless vicars and priests had told them their whole lives, God hated people like them. Their only hope of surviving the day was that maybe He hated Danny more.

Walker had lied about the day. Thankfully, Brendan had known who to ask to check the information, and it was actually the Tuesday when Danny was welcomed back into freedom, with a thankfully much depleted group of followers. If they'd just taken Walker'ss word for it, it might have cost them their lives. As it was, they woke before dawn, and fucked to remind each other they weren't dead yet. Then they went for some breakfast (with Amy gone, no stores had been refilled, so they settled for some questionable bread and something that might have been marmalade) and, deciding that Danny would definitely need to take stock himself before he actually acted against them, fucked again over the kitchen table, Brendan leaning heavily on Ste's back.

They walked to the club in silence. It hadn't been open since Cheryl had discovered Brendan's wound, and none of the staff were there. Ste wondered if they'd started looking for new jobs. It might be necessary, if Brendan's plan failed.

And there was a good chance it could fail.

The rest of the day passed slowly. They waited, on alert, expecting every moment for a door to be broken down or a gunshot to be heard. They sat completely idle in the downstairs bar, touching at shoulder and hip. Nothing happened.

More and more nothing continued, and Ste let himself believe that they stood a chance. They considered having sex again, but it would have stopped them looking out for Danny, so they just waited and listened, and waited and listened.

At about opening time they heard a persistent knocking on the staff entrance. Brendan gripped Ste's hand for a quick moment before they made their way to the stairs. An angry voice could soon be heard.

"Brendan? Brendan! I know you're in there! Get down here, now!"

Ste screwed up his face, "Jacqui? What does she want?"

He made to go down, but Brendan put an arm out to stop him. "Careful, she's one of Danny's favourites, you don't know if she's working for him."

"She wouldn't!" Ste cried, shocked.

"Well, she doesn't have quite as good an opinion of me as you do," Brendan teased, "to her I'm just her moody boss that never gives her a penny she's not earned."

Ste couldn't believe that, "But Danny's a monster!"

"She don't know that," Brendan argued.

"Well, we'll have to tell her then!" Ste replied, firmly striding the rest of the way down to let Jacquie in.

Brendan sighed, "Fine," he said, "show her to the bar. Make sure she goes in first."

He turned back, and Ste knew he had a right to be cautious - they'd both trusted Walker at some point - but it still worried him. He still didn't really know what Brendan was capable of. And he was getting a better understanding of what he himself would do to protect Brendan. But there was a massive difference between Walker and Jacqui.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and faced the wrath of Jacqueline McQueen.

"Oh, I might have known you'd be here!" she snapped, "Nothing but weirdness since you got here!"

"He's upstairs," Ste said, taken aback by her statement, but trying not to show it.

"And what are you, his secretary?" she sneered. "No," she answered herself, "you're nothing so wholesome, are ya?" She swept past Ste, leaving him gaping and annoyed and almost smacking him in the face with her long black hair. "You know, in my book, Ste, adultary is adultery, whatever the other person's got between their legs."

She added the last over her shoulder as she swept up the stairs, quick and direct. Ste had to do a little run to catch up. Something told him there was no point denying the relationship to Jacqui. She would see through the lie, she knew about them, no suspected.

Ste followed her, in through the door behind the bar itself, and paused at the door when he spotted Brendan. The Irishman was sat in a chair, by the main door that led to the entrance hall, watching them, expression calm, body relaxed.

Too calm, too relaxed.

Jacqui glared at him, "Oh, finally showed your face, have ya? And what do you expect us to do while you're swan..."

She froze mid-sentence. Brendan was suddenly pointing the gun right at her. Ste swallowed, but stayed where he was, blocking the exit.

"I've always liked you, Jacqueline," said Brendan, still calm though Ste was sure he couldn't be, "you're a good girl, even if you do shout your mouth off for no good reason. I don't want to use this."

Jacqui obviously came out of her shock, she spun around, ready to run back the way she came, but Ste was in her way, and Brendan's voice beckoned her back round, "I wouldn't do that," he said, "I'm a very cautious man, Jacqueline, and we wouldn't want you to meet with an accident."

Ste saw fear in her eyes, but Jacqui was the type who would do everything she could to hide such feelings.

"Brendan," he scolded, "you're scaring her!"

Brendan rolled his eyes, "Good. She should be scared."

Ste ignored that, "We're not gonna hurt you, Jacqui."

"Funny way of showing it," she snarled back at him, and Ste couldn't help thinking she had good reason.

"Are you working for Danny Houston?" Brendan asked, coldly.

Jacqui looked at him contemptuously, "Of course I work for Danny Houston! I work for him and I work for you and I work for Cheryl, because apparently it takes all three of you to own this stupid shit hole!"

Brendan let out an angry breath, "Did he send you today? Have you seen him since he got out of prison? Are you reporting to him?"

Jacqui snarled again, "I don't know what you're talking about Brendan! I came for mine and Rhys' wages, and to tell all three of you where to stick your job if you can't even bloody employ us!"

Brendan smiled at her, sardonically, "You've got a gun pointed at you and you still can't be polite."

She gave him the same look back. "You've pointed a gun at me, of course I ain't gonna be polite!"

Ste decided this was getting nowhere, "Jacqui, Danny wants to kill us."

Jacqui didn't save him from her contempt, "What, point a gun at him too, did ye?"

"No, he..." Ste started.

"We got him locked up," Brendan supplied, coolly.

Jacqui actually laughed, though not genuinely and definitely not nicely.

"What, revenge is it?"

Brendan hesitated before he said "Yes," still cold, still unmoving.

"Men!" Jacqui said, scornfully, "you're all pathetic, even those who fancy other men."

"I've got kids, Jacqui," said Ste, annoyed at her flippancy, "so's Brendan! We can't just let Danny win."

"So why were you stupid enough to get him arrested?" Jacqui cried. "Well, I know why he did it," she said, turning back to Brendan, "revenge for revenge for revenge."

Brendan didn't reply, and Ste frowned.

"Well," Jacqui snapped, "I know what happens to people who get involved in revenge, Brendan."

"We're not after revenge though!" Ste argued. Revenge had never crossed his mind, even for a moment.

"Well, you were before!"

"No we weren't!" he cried, "Jacqui! He beat me up, he was blackmailing us, he tried to make me..."

He couldn't finish that sentence, even now, but Jacqui showed no mercy.

"Exactly! He hurt you so you hurt him! Revenge!"

"No..."

"Protection," Brendan interrupted forcefully.

Jacqui turned to him, "Protection?" she questioned, doubtfully.

"Yes," he said, simply, unable to keep his eyes from falling on Ste.

Jacqui, clocked the look, but shook her head sharply, "No, I don't buy it! You don't do protection."

Ste snapped, "What, because we're both men we can't actually care about each other?!"

Jacqui's gaze became withering, "You think he cares about you?" she sneered, "Yeah, Vinnie thought that, too."

Ste froze. Everyone seemed to know about Vinnie except for him.

"Yeah, never protected Vinnie, did ya, Brendan?" Jacqui sneered into the silence.

"You know nothing about Vinnie," Brendan replied darkly.

"Don't I?" said Jacqui, "Does Ste?"

Brendan looked at the floor.

"Thought not," said Jacqui, "He thought you cared about him, too. Didn't learn quick enough, did he?"

"Shut up!" Brendan snapped.

"Well, he paid for it with his life, didn't he? Thanks to you!"

"No," said Brendan.

"What happened to him?" Ste asked, dread now creeping through him. Had it been a terrible mistake to let Brendan keep that secret?

"Brendan happened to him," said Jacqui.

"Brendan?" Ste asked, ignoring Jacqui.

Brendan's sad eyes grew sadder. They darted between Ste and the floor, like the children's would when they were about to confess to something they didn't want Ste to find out. He cleared his throat.

"We fucked, Danny found out, I ended it. The end."

It rang true. Ste had guessed enough of it already.

"And then he died of a broken heart," sneered Jacqui.

Brendan growled low in his throat. Ste didn't want to know the answer but he found himself asking anyway.

"How did he die?"

"Jumped off a bridge," said Brendan coldly, and the lack of emotion made Ste shiver. How could he talk so matter-of-factly about something like that?

"Eventually," said Jacqui, still vicious, still furious.

"What do you mean?" Ste asked, realising he had tears in his eyes and dread in his heart.

"Eventually, he jumped off a bridge," Jacqui supplied, "Took some doing, though, didn't it Brendan?"

"Shut up!" Brendan hissed.

"Brendan didn't just end it, did you?" said Jacqui, revelling in the misery in his eyes, "he devastated him."

"Shut up!"

"First, he said they were never fucking again. If he'd ended it there, it might have been alright, Vinnie might have got over it eventually. But that wasn't punishment enough for Brendan Brady. So he sacked him, too."

"He couldn't keep working here!" Brendan protested, "some broken hearted street rat right under Cheryl and Danny's nose? He had to go. It was better all around."

Ste tried to think about that. Was Brendan right? It would have been awkward and difficult for everyone. But he'd been in the position of trying to find work so desperately. He couldn't help but feel sorry for Vinnie.

"Did you have to push him quite so hard, though?" said Jacqui, accusation in her voice. "Because Brendan couldn't tell precious Cheryl he'd sacked Vinnie because they slept together. That would never do. He told her he'd caught him with his hands in the till."

Brendan looked unable to even defend himself now. His face was almost ugly with the emotions that strained it. Ste could barely look at it. Jacqui didn't care – her words were a weapon, thick with malice and misery, breaking Ste's heart.

"So, when poor Vinnie tries to get another job, he's got no references, and then the first moment he gets near one, precious little Cheryl has a quiet word, and it vanishes into thin air."

"I tried to stop her…"

"O yeah, you tried to stop her, but there's nothing you can do to upset precious little Cheryl, is there, Brendan? You'd rather the world fell apart around you, then let her be upset."

Jacqui folded her arms theatrically, "But that isn't even the end of your crimes, is it Brendan?" she sang, getting into her tale, enjoying the effect, "Because then Vinnie comes back to the club, begging for a chance, swearing whatever you want him to. I saw him that day, tears in his eyes, begging anyone who'd listen to put in a good word for him. He begged Brendan to give him his job back, said he'd do anything, say whatever Cheryl wanted. So Brendan decided words weren't enough to keep him away. Best let his fists do the talking.

"So, next thing I know, Vinnie's in a crumpled mess on the floor of my place, black and blue, limping, barely able to see out of one eye. Told me the whole sorry story. I told him to move on, leave town, go somewhere new, but he wouldn't have it. He said, 'Danny started this, Danny'll sort it.' Stupid boy, went to ask Danny for a job. Then, next thing I know, they were fishing him out of that river. Don't take a genius to guess what happened, does it?"

No one answered her. Ste could imagine Brendan doing all of it. Had seen him do some of it, heard him say he'd done worse. He wished it untrue, he silently begged Brendan to deny it, to argue with her. He didn't. And he could imagine a poor lonely young man, broken, beaten, falling apart, deciding to end it all. Because of Brendan.

Brendan glared at Jacqui, expression harder and crueller than Ste had ever seen. "Get out," he growled, "if I find out you've spoken to Danny, you may not live to regret it. Do you understand?"

Jacqui sneered, "As if. Danny's no better than you." She pushed past Ste, with only a falter in her expression a sign she may appreciate the damage her words had done. "I'll be back for me wages," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared down the stairs.

Ste stood frozen still. He was shocked, but beneath it was misery; he was beginning to feel this is what life with Brendan was – a series of revelations of cruelty. How much more could he learn and accept before he found himself floating down the river?

"He didn't beg," Brendan said, unprompted, "he was trying to make me give him money, saying he'd tell Cheryl, that he'd tell Eileen…"

Was that a defence? The words barely entered Ste's stupor. He didn't reply; he couldn't speak.

"Steven?" Brendan prompted, an edge of anger to his tone.

Ste still didn't look at him.

"Fine," said Brendan, suddenly, dismissively, "fine, run away. I told you I'm a devil. Run if you can't handle it. Run away, get lost."

Tears were fighting in Ste's eyes, making his face hot, his eyes sting. Should he stay? Should he go? Was it too late to run? Did he want to? Did this really change anything?

"RUN away!" roared Brendan.

And then the door burst opened.

**AN: Can they survive Brendan, let alone Danny. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten the others who want to hurt them. O dear, is there any hope of a happy ending? You'll have to encourage me if you want one!**


	62. Chapter 62

**I hope you didn't see this coming. I know I didn't. Blame Babydoll if it's too much. It's her fault, though she's no idea what she said that made all this happen.**

**Thank you to all you amazing wonderful people who have reviewed so far! I'm speechless at how amazing it was to realise how many reviews people had taken the time to write! Thank you so much!**

The back door opened violently. They heard it from upstairs. It slammed against the wall behind it, and Ste wondered if he'd imagined the building shaking. It was followed by the sound of many pairs of feet running up the stairs.

Brendan determinedly gripped the gun, pointing it at the door. They had suspected an en mass invasion, but Ste had intended to be beside Brendan if it happened. Right now, though, his thoughts weren't clear. He'd hesitated and now he was stuck where he was, and he shuffled as far from the door as the bar would let him, and plunged his hand into his pocket to grab his own small weapon – the knife Walker had supplied that night in the warehouse. He held it in his pocket, out of sight, it was a useless weapon unless it took someone by surprise.

"This is the police!" shouted a voice at the other door, "open this door!"

That was unexpected. Brendan swore and shoved the gun down the back of his chair just in time to hide it from the four policemen who burst in through the back of the bar, truncheons in hand. Ste tried to retreat further behind the bar, eyes wide and confused, his hand unable to release its grip on the knife in his pocket.

"Stay where you are!" one of the policeman called, as one of them went to open the front, allowing another two officers to barge in that way.

"What the hell?" Brendan cried, fury and misery still obvious from the previous events.

The policemen were standing around, looking a bit awkward now. No one was fighting, no one was running, no one seemed to be doing anything illegal.

"Brendan Brady?" asked one of them.

"I'm Brendan Brady," said Brendan, "what the hell is this about?"

The policeman glanced at his companions, but turned back to Brendan with a steely determination in his eye, "I am arresting you for gross indecency. I have reason to believe you have committed homosexual acts," he said, looking awkwardly between Brendan and Ste, "and you must come with me now, Sir."

Ste felt his heart freeze. This wasn't possible, surely.

"What reason?" snapped Brendan, and his anger was ebbing to fear, though he was doing his best to only show the former, "I'm a married man!"

"An accusation from a concerned citizen, Mr Brady," said the policeman, emotionlessly, "now I must ask you to come with us."

"You can't arrest him!" Ste cried.

A second policeman turned, wielding his truncheon menacingly and glaring at Ste, "You trying to stop the police carrying out their duties?" he snarled, angrily.

"No, he's not, he's just surprised!" called Brendan, "it's all a big mistake. Steven stay out of the way. He's just a barman, he works here, he's got nothing to do with any of this."

"I don't know anything about him, Mr Brady, and if this is a mistake, I'm sure we'll sort it all out soon," said the first officer, "there's a hansom waiting outside to take you down the station."

Two of the policemen placed themselves either side of Brendan and pulled him to his unsteady feet. "Oh God," gasped Ste.

Brendan stumbled against one of the policeman, "The cane, give me the cane!" he ordered. One of the policeman picked it up, but didn't hand it over, and the two half supported half dragged Brendan to the door.

"You might want to find the faggot a lawyer," one of the policeman said mockingly as he passed Ste on the way out.

"Yeah," said Ste, pathetically.

He wanted to run after them and kiss him, to shout that he loved him. He needed to talk about Vinnie, to shout at Brendan for not telling him himself, to say he wanted to understand, that he didn't and never would think Brendan was the devil, that he wasn't going to run, however horrible and ugly that truth was. None of it would be a good idea; it definitely wouldn't help Brendan prove his innocence. But then, not much could do that when he was guilty as sin.

This had been a risk since the beginning but now it just felt so unfair. As a demonstration as to why Brendan had gone so far to keep Vinnie quiet, it was pretty effective.

Ste found himself unable to move as he watched the man he loved dragged from the building. He was frozen to the spot, actually shaking for whole minutes after they were gone, after the building settled again.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Who had gone to the police? There were a distressingly large number of suspects, of people who wanted to hurt Brendan and Ste, of people who were disgusted by them. But why not have Ste arrested too? Surely someone like Cheryl or Declan would have made certain they were the opposite way around now. And what benefit was there to someone like Danny only attacking one of them? His mind flew. Maybe Walker? Maybe one of Brendan's former lovers?

And why was he wasting time worrying about that now? Brendan had been arrested. Ste was alone in a club with one broken down door, knowing outside there was one criminal gang on the loose who wouldn't mind seeing him dead, and another who had recently stabbed the love of his life.

He remembered how to make his legs walk and made it to the office. What looked like an address book? Where might Brendan keep that information? Surely someone as dodgy as Brendan would have found a good lawyer by himself. Ste's hands were shaking so much he dropped almost everything he touched. He hoped there would be a lawyer would be under lawyer. But it would be more likely that Brendan just used his name; he would know who his own lawyer was.

How long had that writer gone to prison for? It was years, wasn't it? And he'd been rich and important, who knew what could happen to someone normal like Brendan? What if Brendan was in prison for years?

Ste couldn't stop the tears flowing, or calm his breath. He picked up something from the desk and threw it at the wall in anger, then threw the desk over too, scattering papers over the floor and dust into the air. It helped the anger, but not the desperation or misery, and he sank to his knees as sobs wracked his body uncontrollably. He buried his face in his hands and leant against the upturned desk.

It was all his fault. If he'd just left Brendan be, none of this would have happened. He kept picturing Declan's face, imagining the scandal, of word of this reaching his school, of Eileen and Cheryl ashamed of their name, of Cheryl's hatred, which could be enough for her to take it out on Amy and the children

And the imagine of Brendan in prison - enforced silence, looking ragged, forced labour. The idea made him feel sick with self-hatred for making it happen. He smashed his fist into the heavy wood of the desk, again and again, over and over, feeling the pain, relishing in it, needing it, and when a pair of hands took his wrists and held them still, he couldn't even be bothered to find out who it was, he was too busy trying to feel some pain, any pain, the kind of pain he might have inflicted on Brendan. He kicked his legs instead, slamming his heel into the wooden leg of the table, bashing his head against whoever had been stupid enough to get between him and his rage.

He felt his own hands being pulled around him, like he was being made to hug himself, and he realised he was being stupid. Someone was with him and he hadn't reacted, hadn't even cared.

He shook the hands off him and threw himself away from the intruder, bashing against the legs of the desk. A sunken eyed Simon Walker was looking at him, looking wan. Ste pulled out his knife.

"You!" he hissed, using the knife to point at Simon's monstrous face, "you did this!"

Walker might have paled, but he was already so pale, Ste couldn't be sure, but his voice didn't betray any emotion.

"Put that away, son, you don't know how to use it," he said.

"We told you," Ste said, "If we saw you again, we'd kill you."

"Will you, Ste?" said Walker.

"You got Brendan arrested!" Ste shouted, more to himself than Walker. He needed to hate Walker. He needed to kill Walker.

"Not me, guv'," said Walker.

"Yeah right," said Ste, "how could you do that?! After everything you've said to me! You're as guilty as he is!"

Walker didn't reply. He was watching Ste through his curtain of hair, head on one side. His completely lack of guilt, the way he showed no shame, no remorse made Ste furious once more. He surged forward, the knife in front of him. He grabbed Walker's collar with one hand, and pressed the knife against his neck with the other. Walker didn't fight, didn't try to stop him.

"You're a monster!" Ste shouted, "you evil bastard, you… I'm gonna kill you!"

"No you're not," said Walker.

"I am!" shouted Ste, "I'm going to, for Brendan! You deserve it!"

"You're not, Ste, because you don't want to die," Walker stated simply, "Brendan might think he can get away with anything he wants, but you know better."

Ste imagined hanging for murder. Two years in prison was nothing to that. But he didn't let go of Simon. The bastard had tried to kill them, and when he failed had found another way to separate them.

"Ste, if you don't drop the knife, I will be forced to make you," said Simon, still unruffled, still so certain Ste wasn't going to hurt him. It was so infuriating that Ste felt a rush of adrenaline. He pressed the blade against Walker's neck.

It had barely broken the skin before a pain in his wrist had made him drop it, and his arm was suddenly behind him at a horrid angle and he was being pressed over the edge of the broken table. He shouted in pain and fury at Walker, but found struggling hurt all the more. Walker pressed him down against the wood, but spoke softly.

"It's alright Ste, we just need to go somewhere together, me and you," He stroked Ste's hair with one hand, like a mother might comfort a child who had scraped it's knee.

"Get off me!" Ste snarled, angrier about the hand in his hair than the restraining one. Walker had no right to touch him like that. Not when he was the one that caused the pain.

"Shh," Walker cooed, "I need you to calm down. When you have, then I can let you up."

"Bollocks to what you need you arsehole!"

Walker's grip on Ste's arm tightened, and the arm was tugged upwards, making Ste hiss at the pain. Walker's voice was not so calm this time. It was tinged with desperation "You need to calm down!" he said, "I don't want to hurt you."

Ste didn't believe him. Walker had done a huge amount to hurt him already. "Get off!" he shouted, kicking at Walker's legs. Walker didn't seem to care, but pulled Ste up onto his knees by the arm, and pressed him down again to the floor, but Ste saw his chance and rolled. Walker still had his arm but that arm was in front of him again and he could struggle now. He punched Walker on the jaw with his left hand, then kneed him in the stomach, managing to make Walker grunt. His hold weakened enough for Ste to shake the hands off, jump to his feet and run.

He knew where he was heading. Brendan's chair in the bar, where the gun was still hidden between cushions. He almost crashed into the wall as he ran for it, darting through the door to the bar, seeing the chair.

Walker's weight slammed into him, knocking him down to the ground once more. He was less than two yards from the chair. He struggled, tried to shake him off, but this time Walker didn't give an inch.

"Ste, stop fighting! I promised him you wouldn't fight!"

"Then get off me!" Ste shouted. Walker didn't. He grabbed both Ste's arms and pulled them together behind him.

"Ste, stop it, please, stop it! He'll kill you!"

Ste could only guess who he was, but he was pretty confident in that guess.

"Please Ste, it's only Brendan he wants to hurt. You come with me, it will be fine, I promise."

The chair was so close, but not close enough. If he went for it now, Walker would find the gun, and might even use it on Ste. His struggles weakened.

"That's it Ste," Walker cooed, his lips in Ste's hair now, "calm down, and it will be fine. We've got to go to see Danny."


	63. Chapter 63

**AN: I fear I may be crossing some sort of line. I'm not sure if that's OK, but then I never really knew where the line was anyway. You may be pleased to know that words (albeit dark words) keep pouring out of me since I finished Game of Thrones, and I'm really into this again. Enjoy!**

Ste was terrified of following Walker. Walking straight into the presence of Danny Houston was not something he was keen to do. The fact that Walker seemed desperate to make it seem like his own volition wasn't helping.

"Just do as I say, Ste," he kept saying, "do as I say and you'll be fine." Then it changed subtly to, "Do as we say, Ste," then "Do as you're told, Ste."

Ste tried just staying put at first. Walker couldn't get away with dragging him through the streets – Ste was too heavy to be dragged too far, and as long as he was inside the club there was a chance that Walker would look away from him for long enough for him to grab the gun. He sat on the floor of the bar, glaring at Walker as Walker made the occasional attempt to persuade him just to go. He may as well have sat in silence. Ste knew he had no choice in the long run. It was go to Danny or wait for Danny. It was no choice at all, but he dared hope.

Walker kept talking about the money Danny had lost because of them, how angry he was, about going to prison but again and again about losing money. Danny had seen a way to make money from Ste before. If he went with Walker, is that what Danny would plan for him? A life selling his body to whomever Danny chose?

Maybe he could bargain, though? Maybe if he agreed to whatever Danny wanted, they could say it was a mistake about Brendan, and get Brendan out of prison. Danny hadn't been inside for very long, maybe he would be satisfied with Brendan staying the same amount of time in prison as he did, and them making the money up to him.

The idea sounded weak even to himself.

"Ste, he's only given me 'til three, we have to go now!" said Walker, his voice broken, his eyes wide. Ste saw no reason to do anything he was told though. "Ste, if you don't, I will have to make you." Another person might have sounded pleading saying those words, but Walker only sounded disappointed, like Ste had somehow let him down. Ste still had no intention of doing as he was told though. He sat still on the floor, trying not to look at Brendan's chair in case Simon noticed and realised what he was thinking.

When Ste still didn't respond, Walker finally lost patience. He grabbed Ste by the hair.

"Fuck off!" Ste screamed in surprise, but Walker ignored him and dragged him as far as the window. He pulled the heavy drapes aside and shoved Ste's face against the glass.

"See there, Ste?" he said, pointing at a cart outside that seemed to be delivering groceries to the house opposite, "if you don't show at Danny's by three, he's sending one of them, three men and a sack. They will shove you into the sack and throw you onto the back. They won't care if they bash you about to do it, or if they drop you in the canal on the way, or if you suffocate while you're in there. They will only care about delivering you to Danny. Please, just come with me. I promise you, it will all be OK if you just do as you're told!"

And after that there was no choice. Ste looked at the chair one last longing time, and nodded. Walker sighed with relief, "Good boy," he breathed, letting go of Ste's hair with a gentle stroke to his face. Ste flinched away from it, finding it more repellent than the hair pull, but Walker didn't seem to notice, as he put a hand to the small of Ste's back and guided him out of the club. Ste could almost feel the gun getting further away from him, and he cursed his cowardice at letting Walker control him so easily.

Walker stopped him for a moment just before the door. "Now, the temptation the moment we step outside will be for you to run. That is the worst thing you could do, Ste. If Danny thinks he can't trust you, that you won't do as he tells you, he won't try to take you again, he'll just kill you. Do you understand Ste? You have to just do as he tells you."

Ste nodded. Walker was right, he had wanted to run far away and never look back, but he had decided to behave for Brendan's sake, not anything Walker was saying. He could still barely look at Walker he felt so much hatred and anger. So when Walker put a hand on his arm to lead him further he shook it off. Walker groaned, "Ste, I will beat you up to keep you safe," he said. Ste wished he would, it would be easier to do as he was told if he was bruised and broken.

They walked through the city in silence. Ste took quiet note of where they went. If Danny wanted him dead, he would surely be dead by now, wouldn't he?

"Did Danny get Brendan arrested?" he asked quietly. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but wanted to check before he made a fool of himself asking for something Danny had no control over.

Walker's grip on Ste's arm tightened at the mention of Brendan, but Ste saw him nod confirmation.

"And you think that's all right, do you?" he asked, bitterly, "getting someone locked up for doing stuff you do?"

"Brendan got Danny locked up for doing stuff he does," said Walker, "he's hardly innocent, Ste."

"But how can you work for him, though?" Ste demanded, "You're supposed to be a copper, Simon! Aren't you supposed to stand up for the law?"

"Are you saying I should arrest myself for wanting to sleep with men, Ste?" Walker asked quietly.

Ste didn't bother replying. It was typical Walker would ignore the first bit of the question, and he shouldn't have bothered in the first place. Walker's original attack and attempted murder should have shown him that the policeman had no moral compass left. If he was still a policeman, it was in name only.

They were getting towards the docks, to the sounds of drunken people; foul language, abuse, partying, fucking. Walker guided him to a dim looking pub and pushed him gently but firmly through the door in front of him. He saw a dingy room with a number of people drinking and talking. The noises in the building ceased completely as he entered, scaring him further, and he might have lost his nerve and bolted then and there if Walker hadn't stood behind him and closed the door firmly.

"Ste," said the voice Ste was dreading, "welcome to my new home."

Ste shuffled forward trying to see through the gloom to where Danny was situated. He found him quickly. Danny had sat himself on a tall hard chair with a high back. His hands were resting on the arms, his back straight, his feet firmly on the floor. His hair had grown a little while he was in prison, and he'd left his face unshaven, which should have given him the unkempt appearance of a tramp, but his whole body was stiff and upright, but confident, in control. To Ste, Danny looked less like a beggar, and more like a King.

"Danny," Ste breathed quietly. He tried to look at the floor, show submission, as Terry had sometimes instructed him. Despite his fear and Danny's impressive appearance, he still found it hard.

"You've been a very naughty boy, Ste," Danny sneered, "haven't you?"

Ste nodded. He'd have admitted to being the devil himself right now if that was what Danny wanted.

"Is there something you want to say, Ste?" Danny asked, still sneering, and his men look on in amusement at Ste being brought down.

"I just… I'll do what you want me to, Danny, but…" he swallowed, he was so nervous he could barely get the words out, "you don't have to do this to Brendan, right? He's got kids and a wife, and…"

"Brendan lost me a lot of money Ste," said Danny.

Ste swallowed, "I know, right, but we could make some…"

"I've spent the last two weeks in prison, Ste," said Danny.

"I know," Ste repeated, "but…"

"And two of my men are dead now, because of him."

"No," said Ste, "no, that wasn't his fault, right, that…"

"Have you heard the phrase 'an eye for an eye', Ste?" Danny looked to the man beside him who nodded and moved off to one of the darker parts of the bar.

Ste nodded, and Danny's face stayed as emotionless as always.

"So, you'll understand then. Brendan put me in prison, so that's where he shall go. Brendan killed two of my men…"

Ste realised what the man was getting, he turned to the door but Walker still guarded it.

"So I have to kill two of his," Danny concluded, as Ste threw himself at Walker. Walker didn't even have to react, as two of Danny's men grabbed Ste, pulling him away from the door and tying his hands fiercely tight behind him. He screamed, and fought and kicked, knowing it was useless.

"Scream all you like, Ste. I know it's scary, knowing you're about to die," said Danny, "People don't help you if you scream around here. They stay out of the way in case it happens to them, too."

"Danny, please!" Ste shouted, as he saw another, longer stretch of rope. This one had a noose at one end.

"It's an eye for an eye, Ste," said Danny, "I can't stop it."

Ste kicked as three men lifted him, and another put a stool below a beam just below the ceiling.

"Simon!" Ste found himself shouting, "Simon, help me! You promised!"

The rope was thrown over the beam, the noose about seven feet off the ground. Ste's eyes were glued to it even as he struggled to be free. The three men who carried him forced him to stand on the stool, facing Danny, as another pulled the noose over Ste's head, sending waves of pure fear through Ste's body. He stared at Danny.

Walker was beside Danny, "This wasn't part of the plan, Danny," he was saying, "this is about Brendan, not him!"

Danny ignored him, "You should feel relieved, Ste. Because Brendan cares so much about you, in my mercy I have decided that your death is enough to recuperate me for both of my own losses."

The noose was tightened around Ste's neck. He barely dared struggle anymore unless he fell from the stool and killed himself.

"Please!" he said.

"What, do you think we should do it the other way around, Ste?" said Danny, "Send you to prison, and hang Brendan?"

Ste closed his eyes and shook his head. To him it would be worse if Brendan died. Tears were pouring down his cheeks. He wished he could be strong in the face of death, but he was terrified. He wondered how much it hurt to die.

"Please," he whispered one more time.

"Danny!" Walker growled.

"What do you need to be Brendan's second man, Walker?" asked Danny, "Want to be strung up beside this little poof."

Walker looked at Ste with tears in his eyes. Ste wriggled his hands, trying to get them untied while he still stood a chance of getting the noose off.

"Time for your last prayer, Ste" Danny prompted, "I'd ask for your confession, but I'm pretty sure I know the worst."

He felt the slack in the rope being taken up.

"Simon, please," Ste tried.

"Good bye, Ste," said Danny.

And the chair was kicked from under him.


	64. Chapter 64

**AN: **** I will remind you that this story is already an M rating. ****So, I may have crossed the line here. If I didn't in the last chapter, this is the new line. Good bye new line.**

**(This is a warning - this chapter contains disturbing scenes. They are important to the story, and I've been fretting for ages trying to make them less disturbing. They have stayed because they had to.)**

Ste hit the ground with a crash loud enough to wake the dead. With his hands tied behind him there was nothing to break his fall so he hit his whole left side and part of his face against the wooden floorboards, leg to head. The pub around him was filled with hideous laughter, but it was not as loud as his own breathing and heartbeat.

He didn't stand. If anything were going to break him, it was that. As his heart began to beat normally again, he noticed a cold wetness on his thighs. He didn't bother trying to hide it, but shut his eyes at the embarrassment.

"Jesus Christ, he's pissed himself!" one of Danny's nameless bastard goons shouted, and the gales of laughter grew. Ste turned his battered head towards Danny. Was his ordeal over now? His left leg felt like it was broken, and he could feel warm wetness dripping at his eyebrow, and then something red dropped into the eye itself.

Walker wasn't laughing. He was simply staring. Danny wasn't laughing either, but he did have an amused smile on his face.

"Get him cleaned up," he said, "his first customer's waiting."

Walker looked ready to vomit with relief and the power of his own panic, but Ste could only glare at him. Walker was probably the only one not in on the joke, though he had definitely believed Ste had been about to die. He was also the only one here who claimed to love him. And he'd also stood back and watched as Ste was hung.

"That's you, you'll be pleased to hear," said Danny, quietly to Walker, as an ugly, burly man grabbed Ste's bound arms and hauled him to his feet. He could stand carefully on the damaged leg, so it probably wasn't a break in the bone.

"What?" said Walker.

"I hate to repeat myself," said Danny, "You will fuck him and then you will get over it. I do not want to question your loyalty again. Remember who owns you, Walker."

"No, take him by the rope!" one of Danny's associates cried, finding the whole idea hilarious, "like a dog on a lead."

"He's not touching me!" Ste growled, ignoring them all except Danny.

"You'll do as you're told or next time it'll be tied to something" said Danny barely sparing him a glance. One of the nameless gang grabbed the end of rope that was still around Ste's neck and pulled. Ste's choices were to follow or be strangled. He didn't hear Walker's response as he was pulled up a dingy flight of stairs, then shoved into a bedroom.

The sight of it made Ste feel sick. His hands were shaking behind him, his legs felt like they'd never hold his weight, and none of it felt quite real. One of the gang followed him in and shoved him to the centre of the room.

"Take your shoes off," he instructed.

"Go fuck yourself," Ste instructed. The yob frowned at him, and gave a sudden tug on the rope from Ste's neck. With his arms tied behind him, Ste had no way to balance, and fell forward, choking at the sudden pressure on his breathing. He landed on his knees, and gasping.

"Take your shoes off," the yob instructed a second time, so Ste tried to obey, standing up and carefully toeing his shoes off.

There was a deep jug of cold water on the side that the yob poured over Ste's head without ceremony, before scrubbing his face with a cloth as though Ste were no more important than a dirty table. He dabbed at Ste's forehead more than the rest of him, presumably where his skin had broken

He didn't untie Ste's hands, but shoved Ste backwards towards the bed and fastened the loose end of the noose to the headboard, before shoving him once more so that he sprawled onto the bed. Ste needed no more information on what his future held. He felt lucky to be clothed until the yob curled his lip, looking at Ste's trousers.

"Filthy animal," he muttered, and undid Ste's trousers, taking little notice of Ste's kicks, and pulled them off while trying not to touch the wet patch. With his hands still tied behind him, Ste could do little but try to stay on the bed and not fall in case there wasn't enough give on the rope.

When the trousers were free, the yob pulled his underwear off too, leaving Ste naked below the hips, and when Ste tried to hide his modesty with his legs, gave him a sneer, and patted his face mockingly.

"There's a good little girl," he teased, "know your place, whore, and now spread your legs for all the other perverts." He knocked Ste's legs open, "This is your idea of paradise, isn't it?"

Ste spat on the yob's face, and earned a smack on the head for his efforts, but the headache felt better than the thought of not fighting back.

The yob turned and left the room with a last warning look. Ste didn't respond to it. He sat on the bed for a few minutes, waiting for Simon Walker to show his evil face. He had no doubts he would show. He probably would have without Danny's words of warning. He'd shown Ste he needed no permission to take what he wanted. And now Ste was right where Walker wanted him, alone, scared and powerless to stop him.

Walker didn't appear straight away. Ste imagined him enjoying the anticipation. He wished he'd get it over with. Waiting to be raped was the most horrible thing Ste had ever done. And he felt so vulnerable with bare legs and his arms tied behind him.

It felt like an age before the door opened, and Walker stepped through. His face looked even paler than before, his eyes more sunken and sad, but Ste had no sympathy for him. He glared at him, daring him to approach.

Walker leant against the door, looking at him with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, stupidly, and Ste wanted to punch his stupid face. He felt his bound hands balling into fists. He didn't reply, just glared.

Walker soon lost the ability to look at him, and gazed instead at the floor. "It was just a test," he said, however stupidly obvious that was, "he wanted to make sure he could rely on me."

"Never," said Ste, sarcastically. He'd figured that much.

Walker grimaced. "I passed," he said, unnecessarily.

Ste tried to put all the contempt in his heart into his face, "Congratulations. You must be so proud."

Walker blinked and rubbed his face. "So, it'll all be all right now," he said.

Ste laughed at his face. "Oh, you think do ya?" he cried, he wriggled up the bed, gracelessly and with difficulty. He opened his legs, revealing his cock and balls and complete lack of arousal, and looked Walker straight in the eye. "Come on then, rape me. If that's what you think is 'all right'."

Walker stared at the floor, not responding. Ste needed to twist the knife in. Walker needed to hurt, if there was anything left in him that could.

"Come on! I can't stop you! Brendan can't stop you! This is what you wanted, isn't it? Him out of the way and me at your mercy! Come on! Get it over with!"

When Walker moved, Ste jumped. He tried to force himself to stay still. He had almost believed, for a moment then, that Walker wouldn't have it in him to go through with a rape. He closed his eyes, waiting for the weight of unfamiliar, unwanted hands on his body, for the rest of his clothes to be taken from him, for the humiliation and pain he knew was coming. They never arrived. Instead he smelt alcohol by his face, and felt his arms being freed.

He opened his eyes to see Walker leaning over him to untie the ropes. When Ste's wrists were completely free of the bonds, he pulled the wrists forward and inspected them. Ste remembered Brendan doing something similar after Warren threw him down the stairs at the club. It was a moment of tenderness. It probably meant more to Walker than it did to Ste, who pulled his hands back and used them to scoot further away from Walker.

The move seemed to sadden Walker further, but he persevered, leaning over to pull the noose from Ste's neck. Ste knocked his hands away.

"Leave it," he said, "it's telling, don't you think? Of how we got here and what I am now."

Walker dropped his hands. "I don't like seeing you like that."

"It's a bit late for you to say that, don't you think? You put me here!" Ste snapped.

"No," Walker muttered, "No, it was Danny…"

"Yeah," Ste replied, "your master."

Walker groaned, "You don't know what he's like, Ste! You don't know what he's capable of."

Ste could only laugh at him again. He had a noose around his neck that Danny had put there.

"Ste!" Walker pleaded, "We have to do this now! Danny will know if I don't!"

"Don't you dare blame Danny for what you want to do!" Ste cried.

"He'll know, Ste, he always knows!"

Ste rolled his eyes.

"He knew how I felt about you, Ste!" Walker protested, "He didn't even ask, he just knew! He knew about Cam, about what I…"

"He is not the one who said he loved me!" Ste growled furiously.

"I do," said Walker. His voice didn't have the desperation of someone trying to make another believe them. It was a quiet, sad voice someone might use to confess to a crime.

Ste gave him a look of the deepest loathing he felt. "You're a coward, Simon Walker," he said.

Walker's face show a sharp spasm of pain. "And I suppose Brendan is better?" he hissed.

Ste bit his lip. He tried to forget the news of Vinnie. Before that revelation, Ste would not have hesitated in his response. Now he didn't trust himself to mention Brendan.

"Are you going to rape me or what?" he said, instead.

Walker blinked back tears, but set his face firmly. He lifted his hands back the noose, and this time Ste didn't stop him removing it. He didn't stop Walker removing his shirt either, just shivered as the air met the skin of his chest. By the time Walker had tossed the fabric aside, Ste was in tears once more.

Walker gently pushed him back onto the bed, until he lay flat on his back. He admired Ste's body, but seemed moved by the tears. He stroked them away so gently his finger might have been made of cotton wool. It didn't change anything.

"I'm never going to love you," said Ste. He wasn't sure if it was designed to stop Simon doing what he was doing, or just to hurt him, but he could see it doing the latter.

Walker lifted Ste's arms, putting one above his head and resting the other on his chest, posing him like a doll. "Get on with it!" Ste hissed. There was only so long he could lie docile like this, before he had to shout, fight, scream, anything.

"Hush, now," said Walker, watching Ste sadly, and undoing his fly. Ste tried to hold in a sob. He wanted to close his eyes and imagine he was a million miles away, but then he wouldn't know when to expect it, so he settled for staring at the ceiling above the bed. It was old, stained and rotting, but preferable to Walker's evil face.

He heard Walker's breathing quicken steadily before he'd even touched Ste. He realised there was movement he couldn't feel.

"Oh, God!" Walker groaned, and Ste couldn't help but look. Walker's hand was working fast on his own penis, his eyes glued on Ste. Ste had to look away again. "Ste!" Walker moaned again, his gaze focusing on Ste's body. Maybe Ste's face held too much of his disgust and misery for Walker to use that to aid his sexual fulfilment.

Ste tried to stay as still as possible and not freak out. This was probably less scary than actually being fucked, but it was shocking to watch. Walker was knelt up on the bed now, looking down at Ste, and masturbating furiously. "O God, Ste," he moaned again, and his face started to twist into concentration.

It took a few minutes for Walker to cum like that, spurting strings of white over Ste's naked body. Ste twisted in horror. He wanted it off him, the disgusting mess. He grabbed the cloth the yob had dropped earlier.

"No," said Walker, catching his hand, and prying the cloth from his fingers, "he'll need to see it."

Ste's nose wrinkled in disgust. "That's disgusting."

"He needs to think I did it," said Walker, sadly, "If he even suspects I didn't…" he left the words unsaid and Ste realised what he meant. Walker hadn't had it in him to rape Ste after all, so instead had left clues on Ste that suggested he had. They were for Danny's benefit. Which meant that Ste had been saved the miseries of rape by someone he knew and once may have cared about. For now.

"But…" said Ste, noticing the flaw in this plan, "he won't believe I just left it there…"

"I know," said Walker, "I'm sorry Ste." He picked the rope up from the floor where he'd dropped. Ste closed his eyes again.

"Please, don't!" he begged, "Please, at least let me try to escape!"

"Shh," Walker cooed, stroking Ste's face, and planting a chaste kiss on his forehead. "No one else is coming tonight, I've checked."

"So let me run!" Ste pleaded, "Please!"

Walker simply shook his head, and grabbed Ste's arms, even as Ste decided to struggle again. The coils caught his wrists and pulled them together quickly, and then Walker used more knots to stop it slipping loose. Then he tied the whole lot to a bed post. "Remember," Walker whispered, "they can get the noose out again whenever it pleases them. Please, Ste, please, just do as you're told."

Ste curled up and away from him as much as his bound arms would allow, suddenly too exhausted to care about any of it. After a few moments he felt Simon kiss his head once more, then heard him leave. Ste was left alone in the room, with just Walker's cum and his own thoughts for company.

**AN: Dark enough yet? **


	65. Chapter 65

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I seem to be on a roll. Here is the next bit. Enjoy! x**

Danny strolled in about half an hour after Walker strolled out. Ste had fought against the knots for most of that time, but they were strong and out of his reach. He'd stared down at his naked body, willing the disgusting deposits off of him, but hadn't dared try to wipe them off.

Ste didn't move when Danny strode in and gave him a once over, but filled his brain with images of the bastard dying painfully, trying not to care about his humiliating bondage and nakedness that Danny was clearly appreciating. Hanging featured heavily in his imagined endings for Danny Houston, alongside repeated rapes and being beaten to death.

Danny smirked at the sight. "Bloody hell, you're filthier then I thought," he said, and Ste knew he'd seen the cum as well as the bonds.

"I want him, Danny," said Walker, following behind, and carefully looking at Danny rather than at Ste.

"So do a dozen other queers and perverts," said Danny, "He lost me thousands. It'll be years before he's made it up."

"You know I'm good for it," said Walker.

"Huh," Danny replied, dismissively, "I know exactly what you're worth Walker, and it ain't that much."

"Come on, Danny, I'm easily worth double all those other idiots you've got working for you, and you know it!" Walker snapped, but he wouldn't look at Ste. Ste vaguely wondered what he was thinking. "You need me on side."

"And there's me thinking you already were on my side, Walker," said Danny, casually.

"I need this, Danny," said Walker, "I need him. You've won, Brendan's out of the way, he's broken, what more could you want?"

"Money, Walker," Danny replied, as though it were obvious. He put his head to one side, and grabbed Ste's chin, moving his face from side to side, like a man would inspect a horse he was thinking of buying.

"Fuck off!" Ste growled, trying to wrench his head free.

"Shut it, whore!" Walker growled, but Danny ignored the whole thing.

"And what do you want, Walker?" he asked, voice still casual.

Walker cleared his throat, "I told you, him."

"And what I want to know, Simon is why?" asked Danny. "There are hundreds of little perverts hanging around the docks, all of them cheaper than his one. Younger too, more willing. What's so special about this one?" There was an edge to his tone, dangerous. He'd made his own assumptions about why Walker was asking this.

Walker still wouldn't look at Ste. To Ste, he seemed uglier than sin.

"Tell me, Simon," Danny continued, "If I decided I'd had enough of young Ste, here," the hand trailed down Ste's neck, and closed around his throat, and his next words sounded like they were coming through water as Ste felt pressure on his windpipe, and his focus went almost entirely to that hand, "would that upset you?"

Walker's gaze flew to Ste's eyes so briefly Ste thought it might not have happened. His heart was beating faster than a steam train. Danny was more than capable of tightening the grip on his throat.

Walker didn't reply to the question. "Cam was my brother, Danny, my little brother," his voice was heavy with emotion, "And because of Brendan Brady and that little cunt, he is now buried in a pauper's grave, when he should be drinking and laughing and fucking girls without a care in the world."

Danny and Ste watched his face, closely. He had tears in his eyes, and Ste believed every word despite all that Walker had told him.

"You think one fuck can be enough to make up for that, Danny? I need him to hurt! I need to hurt him with my own hands! I need to make him wish he was dead. And then, I need to show Brendan Brady the mess that used to be his lover and watch him fall apart, until he doesn't care if he lives or dies anymore. I need to send them both to hell!"

Danny's grip on Ste's throat suddenly tightened, closing off his air. Ste felt his face heat up, and he struggled anew, and aimed a kick at Danny that barely landed. Walker surged forward and pulled Danny's hand away.

"If he dies, I can't make him hurt!" he growled with passion, as Ste gasped for air.

"Fuck off and die!" Ste choked at both of them, newly terrified by Walker's words, no longer certain what to believe. Walker turned back to him and backhanded him across the face.

"SHUT UP!" he shouted. Ste's head snapped to the side, and he found himself obeying. He could only watch in fear. He had no idea which version of Walker was the truth. Could he dare believe Walker was lying now? It didn't feel like a lie, and what could Walker possibly gain from it?

Walker's words had had the opposite effect on Danny. Far from fear, he showed as much excitement as Ste had ever seen on him. He even seemed to be breathing faster than usual.

"What will you do to him?" he asked.

Walker's eyes sprung to Ste again. Ste shivered at the raw emotion in his eyes. "I'll start by fucking him 'til he bleeds. He'll beg me to stop, but he shall see how worthless and powerless he is as I continue. I'll keep him tied up, covered in my cum so he knows who he belongs to now. When he displeases me, I shall break one of his bones. If he tries to run away, I shall crush his foot. When I get bored of him I shall share his arse with whatever piece of scum I find on the docks."

Danny's eyes were sparkling at Walker's words and the images they were creating, but he wasn't satisfied. He was watching Walker expectantly, awaiting more. Walker only paused a moment before he gave him more.

"I shall beat him every day until his skin is nothing but bruises, I will hold him underwater until he begs to suck my cock just so he can breathe again. He'll spend days hanging on the end of a rope, straining on his toes to keep his windpipe open, days on his knees barely able to move. And then Brendan shall watch as he crawls to me and licks my feet. Brady will weep to see his pet broken and at my beck and call. And then both of them will die, broken and alone."

Danny looked between them. Ste's wide eyes set him almost grinning. Walker had a look uglier and more fearsome on his face than any Ste had seen.

"I like it," Danny said, quietly. "It's perfect revenge."

"So, you'll let me have him?" Walker asked.

"Not everything is about revenge, Walker," said Danny, "you cannot give me the money he could make."

Ste felt himself breath with relief. Walker's words had nearly broken him. Danny put his head on one side, thoughtfully.

"Two days a week," said Danny, "you can have him two days a week. The rest of the time he'll be pleasing whoever I send him."

"But…" Walker began.

"It's plenty of time for you to get your revenge. Two days a week for as long as he's making money."

Walker didn't seem able to think of an answer to that.

"Hey, I'm being more than generous here, Walker," said Danny, "giving you what you want after you went off on your own like that. I'd expect a bit of gratitude."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks Danny," muttered Walker, though he was obviously disappointed.

"And think about it Walker, strangers fucking him five days a week? That'll drive Brady mad, never mind what it'll do to Ste himself."

"Yeah," said Walker, his face looking haunted. "When can I take him?"

Danny laughed, "Take him? He'll stay right here, I'm not gonna risk moving him. Not even if the Prince of Wales wanted to fuck him. You can come in three days' time. I've got plans for him up 'til then."

He started for the door, but turned back to them as he got there. "You know what, I think we'll need a demonstration of everything you said then, Walker. The boys need a good lesson in how to torture. They're all about the kill. Got no finesse. They could learn a lot from someone like you."

Walker nodded, sadly.

"Come on," said Danny, strolling back out of the room, "let's have a drink to seal the deal."

"One moment," Walker said.

He moved back towards Ste, who shivered and tried again to shift away. He put his face right by Ste's, and grasped Ste's hair harshly enough to make Ste gasp.

"I tried, Ste," Walker hissed, and Ste spotted Danny watching them with a smirk through the door, "you saw me try."

Ste shook his head despite the hand in his hair. That was trying? What was he trying? To scare Ste shitless? All that had happened was that Walker would get to be one of the many people who raped Ste. If that had been Walker's attempt to get Ste out of Danny's clutches, it had been worse than useless. If Walker had wanted Ste out of Danny's clutches, he should never have delivered him into them. "You're pathetic," he replied.

Walker looked over his shoulder and saw Danny still watching. He didn't hesitate further before he punched Ste in the stomach, then turned and followed Danny from the room, as Ste wheezed in pain. It was only when the door began to close that Ste managed to shout, "Wait!" Untie me! Please! Let me get this off of me! Please!"

No one did. He was left alone for hours, straining against the bonds, so much of his body aching he couldn't tell the bits apart. His wrists started to feel raw quickly. He twisted over onto his front, and tried to wipe the mess onto the sheet, but that just left filthy patches on the sheet that he had no choice but to rest upon. He dragged himself up so he was sat on the bed, twisted round, trying to look at the knots on his wrists. He soon discovered that Walker was good at knots, Ste couldn't even begin to get at them.

It was almost dark outside before anyone bothered coming back to Ste. He'd made little progress with the knots, and had spent some time checking the room itself for escape routes. He wasn't positive. The window was too small for even his skinny frame to fit through, and even if he did, they were on the first floor and who knew what was below it. That left the door, and however many of Danny's men were left outside. It wasn't promising.

The first person to return was the same man who'd taken Ste's trousers. Ste glared at him, because he could and because he didn't seem to have any clothes for him. He did however have some food. It reminded Ste that he hadn't eaten since very early that morning.

He decided to show them what they wanted to see.

"Can you untie me, please?" he asked, voice low, broken. He wasn't sure if it was acting or not. Was he actually broken? He didn't know anymore.

"If you behave yourself," jeered the man, lips curling at Ste's nakedness. Ste tried to shift so he was showing the least of himself, but there was no disguising that he was very much naked. The man put the food down on the small table where the jug stood. It wasn't much – a bowl of something brown that looked cold, but Ste didn't have to look very hard to know he was not going to eat it.

"What happens now?" he asked.

The man smirked, "God, you're thick aren't you?" He knocked Ste's head like he was checking if it was made of wood. Ste wanted to kick him, except that would probably stop him getting untied. "We're going to bring men up here, and you're going to do exactly as you are told until Danny says otherwise. Just like Walker did, just like you did for that Brady."

Ste decided he was going to kill this man at his first opportunity. "I know that," he said quietly, "I mean, now, like in the next hour."

The man sneered at him, "What, can't wait to get started, poof?"

Ste bit his tongue.

The man smirked. "Nothing tonight. Danny hasn't had a chance to spread the word, yet, but don't you worry. He'll make sure every perve in the city knows where to come for some cheap arse to fuck."

Ste nodded. Every word this man spoke was like a dagger to his skin, designed to wound, but he couldn't react.

"Now, be a good little poof and I can untie you." He reached for Ste's wrists. Ste held himself still. He couldn't move a second too soon, or he'd not get out, but not a second too late either, he couldn't give the man a moment to realise what had happened. He had to be out of the door before the man had a chance to speak.

He realised he was about to run naked. He didn't care. If he was lucky enough to escape, he would throw himself upon the mercy of the first person he thought didn't work for Danny. They might arrest him, but that was still better than staying here.

Ste felt his wrists come away from the bed, but realised they were still tied together. He brought them out in front of him and offered them to his captor. The captor shook his head, "That'll do for now. Come on, drink up, you won't be worth nothing if you get any thinner."

He turned his back on Ste, and Ste realised this was the best chance he was going to get. He sprang up and shoved the man as hard as he could, hoping he'd smash into the window, break his head against the table, just die somehow. The man crashed into the table with a grunt, but Ste didn't wait to see how much impact it had made. He was already sprinting for the door.

The man had left it open, so Ste darted out. The stairs were even darker now, but Ste risked them, finding no one blocking his way. He didn't know if there were any other ways out, couldn't afford to waste time looking. There was the bar, there was a clear path, and there was the door.

All he had to do was run and he could be free!

He ran.

**AN: Thanks for reading! Review? **


	66. Chapter 66

**Thanks lovely reviewers! Hope you enjoy! Get well soon Babydoll!**

Ste ran, hardly aware of his nakedness, hardly aware of the rope still around his wrists, hardly aware that his leg was still aching from the fall or that his head was pounding from its various assaults, all he knew was that he had to get out, get away, escape.

There were people around him, someone shouted, someone stepped in between him and the door.

He swore at them, but was running too fast by then. He stumbled right into them, swearing at them, hitting them. The door was right there, he just needed to get past this person. They grabbed him, held him tight, barely reacted to the kicks and two handed blows Ste delivered with his bound hands except to catch the hands and hold them close. Ste shouted at him to let him go, and when he heard the voice of his captor, he only got more angry.

"Shut up, whore!" growled Walker, "I told you to behave, I warned you what would happen!"

The noose would come out, that's what Walker had warned. Ste struggled ever harder. "No! Please! Let me go! Just let me go! Please!"

"Shhh, I can't Ste," Walker whispered.

He lifted Ste almost off his feet, which freed Ste's legs for more kicking, though his actions probably caused more damage to his bare feet than Walker's trousered legs.

"Get your hands off me, you bastard!" Ste shouted, fury in every syllable, rage pouring from his body. "I trusted you! I trusted you, you bastard!"

"Let me deal with him, boss?" said Walker, presumably to Danny.

"Fuck off, traitor!" Ste shouted.

"Be my guest," he heard Danny say, and was certain he could hear a grin in his voice.

Walker shoved his shoulder into Ste's middle, and used it to lift Ste up into a fireman's lift. Ste felt a new wave of humiliation at being carried like a child and with his naked arse high in the air. And he felt himself being taken all the way back up the stairs he'd only just run down, hitting again at Walker again, this time on his back with bitter disappointment.

Walker gave the man Ste had pushed some harsh words and sent him away, and then deposited Ste on the bed. "What did I tell you?" he growled.

Ste couldn't even think straight. He scrambled, trying to get up, trying to run again, but Walker held him down.

"Don't you understand what is going on here? Do you think those threats are a joke? If you are more trouble than you are worth, you will die, do you get that Ste? Danny does not suffer fools."

His words were not calming. They were far from it, and Ste struggled all the more. He managed to get a knee to meet Walker's groin, making the older man groan, and then he even managed to get to the door again, but Walker was faster, fitter, and stronger than the man who had brought Ste his food. He'd slammed the door before Ste had it half way open, and this time shoved him against that door.

"Stop fighting! If you get out now, we'll both be in trouble…"

"Like I care what happens to you!" Ste shouted back at him, panting from the struggles and half smothered against the wood of the door.

"I'm trying to keep you alive!" Walker growled.

"No you ain't!" cried Ste, infuriated by the lie, "you would have let me die!"

"Ste!" Walker growled, miserably, "If you don't stop trying to run, I will have to make you! I will have to make it impossible for you to run."

"I will not sit back and be raped while Brendan rots in prison!"

Walker's voice became a furious hiss; "I will break your leg!"

Those words made Ste stop and think.

"I will have to," Walker hissed, "the only way you will survive is if you do as you are told!"

Could Walker break his leg? He'd sat back and watched Ste hang. Ste couldn't risk it. He'd never get away if he couldn't even run.

"I'll behave," he said.

"You said that before," Walker replied, not letting him move an inch from the door.

"I will, I promise, I won't run again."

"I can't trust you, Ste," Walker hissed.

"But you can!" Ste cried, "I'll be good, I swear. Look, I'll show ya."

He tried to turn, and Walker surprisingly gave him the space. He looked into Walker's face, into the eyes that were still wide, wild, terrifying. Ste had to swallow his fear, his panic, and his disgust. He stood on his tiptoes. He knew what Walker wanted from him. Maybe if he gave it to him, it would be enough and he wouldn't carry out his threat. He could try again tomorrow if he could only convince Walker he was broken.

He kissed Walker very gently on the lips. At first Walker didn't respond, and Ste had to stop as his fears overtook him again. What if this wasn't what Walker wanted? What if he did this and Walker broke his leg anyway?

Suddenly Walker kissed him back, moulding their lips together, passionately, tenderly cradling the back of Ste's head like he was the most precious thing in the world. It was almost enough to make Ste remember that first Simon Walker he'd met. The fun, sweet, gentle one that he'd been tempted by when he'd thought it was over with Brendan. That somehow made him feel worse, and he knew Walker would taste his tears as they fell down his face.

Walker didn't exactly pull away. He stopped the kiss then rested his head on the door by Ste's, still holding him close, still cherishing him.

"You're just so innocent, aren't ye?" he said.

How could he think that? Knowing Ste was a murderer, knowing Ste had committed sin after sin.

"No," said Ste.

Walker laughed sadly, "In the ways that matter, you are," he said. "You think running away will save you. You thinking kissing me will stop me hurting you." He stroked Ste's face. "I'm sorry, Ste," he said, "I have to punish you for running."

Ste tried to push down the rising fear, "You don't!" he whispered.

"I do," Walker whispered back. "Turn around."

Ste shook his head.

"Turn around or it will get worse," he said, simply. Ste turned and pressed himself back against the door for support.

Walker put his arms around Ste, and finally undid the knots on Ste's wrists. Ste had barely stretched his arms out though before Walker had them again. He pulled them back behind him, and wrapped the ropes around them again.

"Danny doesn't want too many scars or bruises if we can help it, thinks your value will go down."

Ste shivered. His arms firmly bound behind him again, he didn't fight as Walker led him back to the bed. Walker helped him lie on his front, knowing it would be hard to get there on his own with his hands bound like this. Then Walker used the rest of the rope to bind Ste's feet to his wrists. Ste found himself bent uncomfortably, unable to lie flat. The position pulled on his shoulders, his wrists, his ankles and his legs. Walker gently pushed him until he was on his side. It relieved some of the strain, but not a lot. And Ste knew for certain he wouldn't be getting free by himself.

Then Walker got in the bed next to him. "I'll untie you when I think you've learnt your lesson," he whispered.

And that was that. He lay silently, watching Ste trying to ease his discomfort, with a look of regret on his face. Ste instinctively knew begging wouldn't make any difference. There was one thing for him to hold on to. His legs weren't broken; tomorrow he would be untied, tomorrow Walker may drop his guard. Tomorrow was another chance.

It took the whole night, of wriggling uselessly, unable to sleep, unable to find a position where something didn't hurt, before Walker reached behind Ste and untied the knots. Walker had dozed, but there was no chance of that for Ste. A grim faced member of Danny's gang had brought a gas lamp and put it on the table at one stage. Maybe they were trying to stop Ste sleeping. And he had had to wait until a cold grey light was peeping through the small window before he was given back the use of his arms and legs.

It felt like agony for a while as his legs learnt to feel again, and his arms could relax into a more natural position. They hurt so much and he was so exhausted that he didn't even think about running, just stayed flopped on the bed as Walker rubbed some feeling back into them. He didn't even have the energy to tell Walker not to touch him.

It was in the subdued moment that followed that Danny chose to enter. He took one look at Ste, submissive and boneless on the bed, and smirked. "Morning," he greeted.

"Danny," said Walker. Ste didn't make eye contact.

"That's better," said Danny. "Now, Ste, we need a chat."

Still Ste didn't respond. He was trying to make his brain work hard enough to think its way out of this stupor.

"I think you're beginning to understand how things are now, Ste. And a visitor is coming today. You are going to do exactly as he wishes. If you do, things will be tolerable. If you fail us, Walker will seem like an angel in comparison to me when I'm pissed off. Do you understand?"

Ste nodded. He was biding his time; that was all. Until he found an opportunity.

But this was his opportunity, and a more important one than his own freedom. An opportunity he should have been looking for since he arrived in this place, and it was only selfish fear for himself that had stopped him.

"If you let Brendan go," he whispered.

Walker stiffened beside him, but Ste ignored him, "I will do whatever you want if you let Brendan out of prison."

Danny snorted, "Now why would I do a thing like that?" he asked, clearly amused, "Brendan would have happily let me rot. And I think I can find ways to persuade you to behave anyway."

"Not without damaging my price," Ste replied. They'd suggested that enough themselves, "You've shown him he can't win," whispered Ste. "He's felt what it was like for you. He won't fight you."

"Won't he?" said Danny.

"Why would he? He's got nothing to fight for." said Ste, "He doesn't care about me any more than he cared about Vinnie."

"Vinnie?" said Walker, but Ste saw the flash of recognition on Danny's face.

"You've shown him. And he's hardly making you money stuck inside a jail cell, is he?" said Ste. "He's one man by himself. He's clever if he's working for you, and useful, but he can't hurt you."

"Why are you so bothered then?" said Danny, "if he doesn't care about you?"

"Because I'm weak," said Ste. He knew Danny would believe that. It was true.

Danny put his head on one side. "I'll think about it," he said. "You've got an hour. I'll send up some food, and this time you eat and stay put or you meet your first client tied over the desk with your arse in the air."

"Danny…" Walker started.

"No," said Danny, "come on."

He beckoned Walker to follow him out, and as Walker bent to collect the rest of the rope, Ste felt a flash of hope. That was almost a deal with Danny. He could give them two days. He could behave until then. If Brendan was freed, if they could prove Brendan was safe, then the rules changed anyway, and getting him out was surely worth this.

If Brendan wasn't freed, then there was no hope left.

Men were broken by gaol. He'd seen them, wondering from town to town, barely knowing what to do with themselves. They were always thin, unhealthy, pale, and barely seemed to survive. No one would employ them, no one would help them. Unless they were proud, they would end up in the workhouse. If they were proud, they died on the streets. Ste needed to save Brendan from that. He could do this. For Brendan.


End file.
